


But Doth Suffer A Sea-Change into Something Rich and Strange

by Emrys MK (mk_malfoy)



Series: Merlin Episodes: AUs, Missing Scenes, and Inspired By [16]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arthur saves his son, Avalon - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Community: paperlegends, Crystal Cave, Gaius as Merlin's mentor, Gen, Gwen as Queen, Immortal Merlin, Kid Fic, Kilgharrah wisdom, Merlin Big Bang Challenge, Merlin helps raise Arthur's son, Merlin mourns Arthur's loss, Past Character Death, Post-Episode: s05e13 The Diamond of the Day, Post-Season/Series 05, Reincarnation, camelot-era, child illness, cup of life, first fic in a series of three, horn of cathbhadh, knights of camelot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_malfoy/pseuds/Emrys%20MK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three weeks after Arthur’s death, a distraught Merlin is lost and alone. He is unsure if there is still a place for him in Camelot, but when Gwen tells him she is with child, he has reason to stay, and a new purpose--one made all the more important when the child’s very existence will depend on him. When the six-year-old is near death, Merlin seeks help from a stranger … who is so much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Doth Suffer A Sea-Change into Something Rich and Strange

**Title** **:** But Doth Suffer A Sea-Change into Something Rich and Strange

 **Author** **:** Emrys MK

 **Summary** : Three weeks after Arthur’s death, a distraught Merlin is lost and alone. He is unsure if there is still a place for him in Camelot, but when Gwen tells him she is with child, he has reason to stay, and a new purpose, one made all the more important when the child’s very existence will depend on him. When the six-year-old is near death, Merlin seeks help from a stranger … who is so much more.

 **Characters** : Merlin, Sir Leon, Gaius, Gwen, Original Male Character (six-year-old child), Kilgharrah, Percival, Original Male Character (eventually Arthur - he is not in the fic much, but when he is ... it is powerful!), Mithian, Morgana, and others

 **Rating** : PG-13

 **Words** : 37,000

 **Warnings** : Nothing other than the information in the summary.

 **Disclaimer** : The Adventures of Merlin and all characters associated with the BBC series are the property of many people, including BBC and Shine, but, sadly, I am not among them.

 **A/N** : This is a reincarnation fic, but I conveniently ignored the bit about an older Merlin walking along the road, a thousand years later.

The title is from William Shakespeare’s _The Tempest_ , Act I Scene II:

_Full fathom five thy father lies._

_Of his bones are coral made._

_Those are pearls that were his eyes._

_Nothing of him that doth fade,_

_But doth suffer a sea-change_

_Into something rich and strange._

_Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell_

          --Ariel

This fic would be far less than it is without my wonderful and talented betas, thismaz (who also Brit-picked) and qwerty. Thank you both for being so thorough in your critiques and suggestions. I have done extensive work since their betas, so any mistakes are my own.

A massive thank you to Kay for doing the art for this story (I made the chapter headers and the dividers within the chapters, but my lovely artist created the other art). I asked her to try some things that weren’t in her comfort zone, and she graciously said she wanted to try. The results are beyond my wildest imagination. Thank you so much, Kay, for all of your amazing art work! You have captured the emotion of this story perfectly. Following is a note she asked me to post:

_I hope you will enjoy this fanfiction as much as I have enjoyed illustrating it. I was apprehensive about taking this story, I must admit. It wasn’t the plot – no, I adored the plot. It was the fact I’d be hand illustrating it._

_I love to draw, but haven’t really shown much of my work. I didn’t think I could create drawings as good as some of the fanart I’ve seen. I felt my talents were rudimentary, at best; the only art class I’ve had was in Junior High (middle school)._

_If you wonder how I drew this art, I created these pieces using colored pencils, ink, and graphite pencils. I then, snapped a photo and did a little tweaking (not much, mind you, just enough to give it texture). I call the style stained glass, which I made up. This technique can be seen in the windows and the cover._

_To conclude, I want to thank MK for wanting my art as well as for pushing and encouraging me. Now, at the end of this journey, I believe I have proven myself wrong in creating these pieces. I hope you enjoy the illustrations as well as the story._

_Sincerely,_

_Kay Drew, Illustrator_

Once you see the art, I think you will agree that Kay did a wonderful job; I am so proud of her for pushing herself to do these pieces. We will never know our full potential until we take chances and step out of our comfort zone.

I also want to thank the_muppet for all the hard work it must have taken to put this monumental Big-Bang on. I am so very happy to be participating in this final Paperlegends.

And one more ... My thanks to Vinivincere for telling me about Paperlegends.  I asked her for recs, which she gave me, but she gave me so much more than that. I have met some wonderful people whilst working on this story and that would not have happened without Vini's gentle prodding, so thanks, Vini!

Now … onward to the story!

__

Physically and emotionally exhausted after his trip from Ealdor, Merlin ascended the stairway to Arthur and Gwen’s chambers (Arthur may be gone, but the chambers that Merlin had spent hours in undressing Arthur, bathing Arthur, dressing Arthur, taking orders from Arthur and giving counsel to Arthur whether he wished it or not would always be Arthur’s) and met Sir Leon, who looked to be in a hurry as he all but ran down the steps, carrying his cape over his arm. “Hello, Sir Leon,” Merlin said, and he stopped when Sir Leon did the same.

“Hi, Merlin. Good to see you back,” Sir Leon replied as he put the cape over his shoulders and began to fasten it.

“It is good to be back,” Merlin said, fervently wishing that were the truth, but too many memories lurked around every corner, up each step and through the corridors for him to be happy about being back in Camelot.  He wondered if there would ever be a time when he could be within the citadel and not feel overwhelming grief and pain. He certainly hoped so.

“Your mother is well?” Sir Leon asked as he lifted the bottom of the cape so it wouldn't drag on the steps and trip him.  He looked at Merlin and shook his head, a look of exasperation on his face.  “These things are bloody irritating.  It would be so much easier if we could do away with them.”

Merlin grinned and was thankful for the opportunity to do so.  Being sad and feeling lost and alone was a wearisome endeavor.  “Yeah, Arthur didn’t much care for them either.  I didn’t understand why he complained so much about wearing his cape until he made me wear one and run through the forest whilst trying not to kill myself by tripping over my feet.”

“Oh yes, I do recall that,” replied Sir Leon, his entire face now smiling as he chuckled. “I seem to recall you falling down over a small hill and letting loose a few choice words.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn't a small hill, but, yeah, not one of my better moments,” Merlin said, shrugging his shoulders.  “And yes, my mother is doing well. She was so pleased you stopped in Ealdor on your way back from seeing Lady Portia’s parents.”

“She is a dear woman, Merlin,” said Sir Leon, his voice now devoid of mirth, replaced with sincerity, “and I count myself fortunate to call her a friend. I only wish my wife could have travelled with me so she could have seen Hunith. The last time your mother was here, she made quite the impression on Lady Portia.”

‘There’s nothing wrong with Lady Portia or the baby, is there?” Merlin asked, hoping all was well with Sir Leon’s wife and the baby that would probably be born within the month.

“Oh, no, we just didn’t think it wise for her to travel so near the time for the baby to come.”

Merlin nodded his understanding, then turned and began to step up onto the next step, but stopped. “How is Percival?” he asked as he turned his head back towards Sir Leon.  Gwaine’s death had hit all the knights hard, but none more than Percival. “He wasn’t doing so good when I left.”

Sir Leon shook his head and looked at Merlin as if he hadn't a clue what to say. He took a deep breath, then released it. “He left.”

“What?” Merlin asked, hoping to have misinterpreted what he had been told.  He knew he hadn't.

“The day after you left he said he needed to get away.  The queen pleaded with him to stay, but he said he couldn't and he asked her to understand.  She did.  I don't think anyone else did, however.  The others are in a right state.  He did tell me that he would return before winter settles in, so that is good, but I doubt the others will welcome him back as I will."

"Let them lose a best friend and ask them how they feel then," replied Merlin, indignantly.

"My thoughts exactly, Merlin," replied Sir Leon, sadly, and it was clear that the events of the past three weeks hadn't been easy on the knight who had, for all intents and purposes, been Arthur's right-hand-man.

“Do you know where he has gone?” Merlin asked, running a hand through his hair.  Percival had needed to get away; that had been clear to Merlin since he and the other had returned to Camelot that sombre afternoon after both of their lives had been forever changed when they had witnessed their best friends breathing their last, but it didn't make the fact that he was gone any easier.  So many of Merlin's friends were dead and he longed to hold on to those who were still among the living, espeically Percival, who was the only person besides him to know what it had been like that Wednesday afternoon in July, after Arthur had died. In Merlin's arms.

“He told me he was going to stay with Sir Godwin and his wife. You’ll remember that Percival and Sir Godwin’s daughter are betrothed?”

“Yeah,” Merlin replied, unsure what else to say as his thoughts took him back to that day.  He had very little memory of that afternoon, after he had sent Arthur out into the water, but he did remember that Percival had found him and that the knight had looked completely desolated. Days later, Gaius had told him Percival hadn’t left his side for nearly a day.  Merlin had gone to thank him, but the knight had sent him away, telling him he didn’t want to see anyone. Merlin had been disappointed, but he’d understood; he had known the level of hurt Percival was experiencing. How could he not have? Just as Merlin knew he would never get over the loss of Arthur, Percival would forever mourn for Gwaine. “How’s the queen?” Merlin then asked, needing to change the subject, but he knew that a change of subject wouldn’t mean a safe haven from thinking about Arthur.  All things would lead to Arthur for a very long while.  Merlin sighed and steeled himself as he felt the beginnings of what would soon be tears at the corner of his eyes.  He had no choice but to pull himself together.  Life would continue with or without Arthur, no matter how unfair it seemed.

“She is doing better than anyone else, if truth be told. It is we who should be comforting her, yet it is she who comforts us. She is an amazing woman,” Sir Leon said as he smiled.

Merlin attempted a smile. “That she is.  It’s in her nature to want to help others and see that they are doing well.” And for the first time since he had been back in Camelot, Merlin allowed himself to smile with his entire face, and he was happy to note that he had successfully staved off the tears, but he knew they would be back.

“You care for her a great deal, I can see that,” Sir Leon said. “She is fortunate to have you.”

“Yeah, I do. Is she in her chambers?” Merlin then asked, hoping to see the queen sooner rather than later.

“She is meeting with Gaius, but her maid-servant is preparing her bath, so I don’t expect Gaius and she will meet for much longer,” Sir Leon said as he began walking down the steps. “I need to go meet with the newest knight, Sir Donovon and his family; his wife and two sons have arrived from Ismere and I have promised to take them on a quick tour of Camelot before the sun goes down, so I best be on my way. Oh, speaking of … Sir Donovon,” he then said, hesitantly, the consternation on his face obvious, “Merlin, would you take Gwaine’s horse out for a ride in the morning? I really don’t want to ask this of you, but I don’t want just anyone riding that horse. I hope you understand. I didn't want to do this so soon, but Gwaine's horse will be a perfect match for Camelot’s newest knight,” he said, frowning and swallowing, looking extremely uncomfortable.

“Erm …. yeah,” was Merlin’s forced reply, completely caught off guard. Someone else would be riding Gwaine’s horse? Merlin’s smile faltered.  As he watched Sir Leon nod and then descend the stairs and disappear, a new thought came to Merlin. What was going to happen to Arthur’s horse? Was someone else going to begin riding him? Merlin knew the answer to that. Good horses were scarce. Yes, there were new foals being born—one of them he had seen as he passed by the stables on his way into the castle—but they wouldn’t be ready for a knight to ride for at least two years. It was inevitable that Arthur’s horse, just as Gwaine’s, would soon have other riders. It was just how it was. Life went on for the living.  And fairness had nothing to do with anything.

When he made his way to the top step, a morose Merlin sat down and looked around at his surroundings. How many times had he been up and down these very steps going and coming to do this or that for Arthur? More times than he could remember, and, more often than not, especially in the earlier years, he would have been mouthing off about how unfair his lot in life was.  Merlin took a deep breath and slowly shook his head.  It was too bad that immature boy hadn't realised what a gift he had been given when Uther Pendragon had given Merlin a position as his son's manservant. But how could he have known then?  He couldn't have.  But had he known ...

“Merlin?” a welcoming, familiar voice interrupted his sullen thoughts.

 _Gaius_. Merlin suddenly felt immensely better, as if a giant weight had just been lifted. He forced a smile, but found it not at all difficult to keep once there. It was amazing the effect hearing just one voice could have on a person. He stood and turned towards the one person in Camelot who had always represented safety for him. “Gaius."

“It is good to see you, my boy.” Gaius approached Merlin and hugged him. “Gwen is having a bath, but she thought you would be returning today and said she very much wishes to see you this evening. How was the time in Ealdor with your mother?”

“It was exactly as you said it would be. She made me talk. I cried. Acted like a girl ... as Arthur would say,” Merlin replied. Then he let out a breath and shrugged his shoulders.

 

 

 

“Yes, dreadful for you, I’m sure,” Gaius said, a hint of a smile on his face.  “I’ve been known to act like a girl on occasion, Merlin. It isn’t the end of the world, I assure you,” and his familiar chuckle followed.

“How is she?” Merlin asked, motioning with his hand to Gwen and Arthur’s chambers. “Sir Leon says she is doing well. Is she?” he asked, trying very hard to keep his emotions in check for just a little longer.  He could feel the tears building and knew he would lose the battle, but perhaps they would remain unshed for a while longer, untl Gaius left.  Merlin hoped so.

“She is doing better than you, it would seem. She is Gwen, Merlin,” Gaius replied, consolingly, looking Merlin over and probably thinking that he was a mess.  He would be right to think such a thing.

“Yeah, I can’t seem to pull myself together, Gaius,” Merlin replied, shaking his head, not caring that he sounded like a little boy who wanted something he couldn’t have. He ran his hands through his hair and locked his fingers behind his neck as he continued to shake his head. He closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Merlin. I wish you weren’t going through this. I wish none of us were.”

“We wouldn’t be, Gaius, had I allowed Mordred to die, not gone after the dragon egg and had I not saved Morgana,” Merlin said, voicing the thoughts that had been running through his head for the past three weeks. He reopened his eyes.

“And had those things come to pass, perhaps instead of having a queen today, Camelot would be ruled by another kingdom. Perhaps none of us would be here. Is that what you would want for Camelot?” Gaius asked.

“Of course not I just …” but there was nothing for Merlin to say, so he left the rest unsaid.

“You just want to feel sorry for yourself. Is that it? Merlin, Arthur would want you to be happy.”

Merlin nodded, but said nothing, his eyes darting around, looking anywhere but at Gaius.

“Then please, for Arthur, and for me, and for Gwen and for your mother, take heart, boy. Arthur lived every day to the fullest. He faced death often, but he went out and did what he had to do. Your job as his servant was to care for him and to see to it that he had what he needed. You did that and more. You have every right to be happy, Merlin, and I can assure you that Arthur would want that for you. Didn’t you tell me that he told you to never change? Well, you are not being respectful of that, are you? And don’t look at me that way, Merlin. You can’t fool me, no matter how much you try. I haven’t seen you do magic since his death, and for someone who normally does magic on a regular basis to retrieve a cup or to turn the pages of a book, I think you would agree that this is not normal. I have no doubt that Arthur would understand your being upset, but, nonetheless, he would not be happy with you, and I think you know that more than anyone,” Gaius said.

“I do know that,” Merlin replied, thankful yet again for Gaius, but wishing the other could understand. Yes, it was true that Merlin hadn’t felt like performing magic of any kind since Arthur’s death. For so long, his magic had been used to keep the prince and king safe, and without Arthur, the magic didn’t seem important. But Merlin knew that thought to be flawed, and Gaius was right—Arthur had told him to never change and to “ _always be you_.” Merlin would do well to never forget those words that had meant so much to him.

 

 

As Merlin stood at the door, watching Gwen, sitting at the table—not on the throne—he knew that nothing would ever be the same. He knocked as he entered and tried to smile as she looked at him and motioned for him to join her. He began to bow, but stopped as she glared. He sighed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he remembered that on the very day he had returned from sending Arthur away, Gwen had asked him to not bow before her when they were not in public. She had said she needed at least one person who didn’t feel the need to place her on a pedestal.

“How was your time in Ealdor?” she asked, a small smile gracing her face, which appeared more strained than it had three weeks before.

Merlin shrugged, but then thought better of it and grinned impishly.  His mother would be most displeased at his bad manners.  Yes, Gwen and he were friends and had known each other for ten years, but she was the queen and, as such, deserved better than a rude shoulder shrug.  But talking wasn't going to help his emotional state, which was quickly going downhill. His talk with Gaius had helped, but Merlin knew he would need more than a pep talk and guilt to get him through what had happened that Wednesday morning when he had sent his best friend away, by himself, without his servant, who, with the exception of one occasion, had always been by his master's side on his travels.  “Good. My mother sends her love and deepest condolences. She says she will write to you within the week.”  Merlin swallowed.  That hadn't been so bad.

Gwen set down the handkerchief she had been holding and reached for his hands and took them in her own. “Your mother is a dear, dear woman, Merlin. I shall never forget the kindness and hospitality she showed me when I was staying in Ealdor. I see so much of her in you.” She removed her hands from Merlin’s, retrieved the handkerchief and dabbed at a fallen tear and then at her eyes.

“Thank you.” Merlin took several deep breaths and looked around the faimiliar room that felt so very different now. If he closed his eyes he could believe that Arthur would come charging through the door, looking for his servant and ordering him to go fetch his sword or draw his bath or to do one of a million other things that he had told Merlin to do over the years. Merlin gave in and closed his eyes briefly, shook his head, and then swallowed. When he re-opened his eyes, Gwen was looking at him, a bereft look on her face. Merlin felt ashamed. He was supposed to be consoling her, not the other way around. But he was finding it impossible to keep his emotions in check. “How are you, Gwen?” he then asked, glancing at the ceiling several seconds later when he found it impossible to continue looking at her when her chin began to quiver and more tears fell down her face. When he had got himself under some semblance of control, he forced himself to turn back towards her, and was surprised to see that she had the most beautiful smile on her face, even as a steady stream of tears continued to fall.

“During the day, I do my best to remain strong, Merlin; I feel that is my duty as queen, but in the privacy of my chambers I am not so strong as everyone believes. I miss Arthur more with each passing day and I am finding it difficult to realise that he is gone. I know he is. But I just—I just miss him.”

“Me too,” said Merlin, and despite his best efforts, a tear finally made its way down his face. He roughly wiped it away.

“Merlin, you needn't be strong and brave for me. You have as much right as anyone else does to mourn. Arthur was my husband, but he was also your friend, and he adored you more than you will ever know. What you had to do, I—” She stopped and looked at something across the room as she shook her head and took a deep breath. A few seconds later she again looked at Merlin, more tears finding their way down her face. “What you had to do that day … the fact that you were with Arthur when he passed from this life … it is a comfort like none other.” She swallowed and cleared her throat.

Merlin felt the tears as they gathered at the corners of his eyes and he reluctantly gave up the fight when they began to fall in earnest. “As I told you when I got back, Gwen, everything I did that day was for Arthur. I made a promise to him and had every intention of keeping that promise. I didn’t, but there was no way, _no way_ , Gwen, that I was leaving him.  Watching him … d—” but he couldn’t say the word. A few seconds later he reopened his mouth, but still was unable to find the strength to say the word or any others, so he didn’t say anything. He shrugged his shoulders.

Gwen nodded. “I have news,” she then said a few seconds later, her tears not as many as before, but her voice more strained.

“What is it?” Merlin asked, curious and worried. He wasn’t sure he could take any more bad news.

“I am with child.”

 

 

 

Merlin looked at the door and grinned as he put on his boots. It had been over a month since he had been treated to hearing Gaius and the six-year-old Osmond Pendragon discussing the day’s history topic, which this day happened to be Samhain, the holiday they would be celebrating with a grand feast later in the evening. From the back and forth chatter, it seemed the boy was more interested than usual in their morning lesson. It was music to Merlin’s ears.

At long last Arthur and Gwen’s son seemed to have recovered from his last bout of the illness that no one understood, and Merlin couldn’t have been happier. His happiness was tempered, however, by the knowledge that it would only be a matter of time before the next bout. It always had been, for six years.

When Osmond had first taken ill as an infant, Gaius had run test after test, but he had found nothing to explain the young prince’s respiratory problems. With little to go on, and with the tiny baby losing weight and struggling to breathe, Gaius’s prognosis had been bleak. He had told Gwen and Merlin that little Osmond’s only hope was a miracle.

Fortunately, there had been one in Camelot whose gifts could be seen as miraculous.

A giggle rent the air and did Merlin’s heart good. Hearing laughter from that sweet little boy was like nectar to a bee for him and he hoped that his role in Osmond’s continued health (it wasn't good health, but as the boy was living, that was something) continued, because losing Arthur’s son was not something Merlin could cope with.  Thus, he would go to any lengths to ensure the six-year-old lived.

He had done. Every Wednesday, at five o’ clock in the morning, for six years—an infusion of magic.

As long as Merlin kept to this regimen, Arthur and Gwen’s son would live. He would always suffer bouts of illness, but nothing near what he had experienced for the first few months of his life, when he had nearly died twice.

“Where’s Merlin?” asked the young prince, louder than was needed.

Merlin smiled.  Whenever he was taking too long to come out of his room, Osmond would talk loud so Merlin could hear him. It was one of thoe daily rituals that Merlin had come to look forward to, but he had made the prince wait long enough this day. He picked up his travelling bag and prepared to open the door, but remembered that the book Gaius had given him many years before was on his bed, open for all to see. That would not do. He returned to his bed, took the book and placed it in its hiding place, where it would more than likely remain until the following Wednesday morning.

“Where is Merlin taking me, Gaius?” Osmond asked, and Merlin couldn’t wait to see the look on the young one’s face when he realised who they would be seeing later that afternoon.

“It’s a surprise,” Merlin replied as he opened the door and made his way down the steps, a huge grin on his face.

“Merlin!” Osmond said as he stood from his place at the table. He was soon skipping around, grinning like a little boy who hadn’t been able to leave Camelot in over two months. “Mother has sent us fruit to snack on whilst we are on our journey, but she would not tell me where you are taking me. She said it’s a s’prise,” he added, before frowning. “I don’t much care for s’prises, but she said I would very much like this one,” and the smile was back, the little boy practically thrumming with energy.

“You will find out where we are going later. For now, you should finish your breakfast, yeah?” Merlin said, looking over at Gaius, who was shaking his head and trying not to grin.  Merlin shrugged his shoulders and tried to look innocent.  It wasn’t his fault Osmond would rather talk to him than eat.

“I’m not hungry,” replied Osmond as he stopped in front of Merlin and looked up at him, studying him intently, a look of confusion on his face. “Did you get taller?” he asked Merlin.

“Er, no, I don’t think so,” Merlin said, looking over at Gaius, who looked to have lost the battle to keep a straight face. “Maybe you’ve got shorter?” Merlin looked back at Osmond, a questioning look on his face.

“Meerliiiiiin, you can’t grow shorter, only taller!”

Merlin nodded as he ruffled the thick blond hair that reminded him so much of the boy’s father, and then he walked over to the window to see what the day’s weather looked to be. He was looking forward to a pleasant day with Osmond and hoped the elements would cooperate.

Fortunately, the morning sky was cloudless and the wind seemed almost non-existent. Merlin opened the window just enough to gauge the temperature. It was warm, but not overly so. In a month or two, however, it would be the time of year when Osmond would have to be kept indoors more often than not.

“Is it as windy as it was yesterday?” asked Osmond as he walked over to the window and began jumping up so he could attempt to see what Merlin was looking at.

Merlin looked over at Osmond, who hadn’t returned to the table to finish eating. He knew he should tell him to go eat his breakfast. Instead, he walked to the corner, retrieved the stool and set it down on the stone step in front of the window so Osmond could see the goings-on of Camelot. He heard a chuckle and looked over to see Gaius shaking his head. All Merlin could do was give him one of his _I tried_ looks before he lifted Osmond, who would forever be much shorter and smaller than others his age because of his many illnesses, onto the stool.

“Thank you, Merlin,” Osmond said as he rested his arms on the stone in front of the window and watched what was going on outdoors.

“Better?” Merlin asked as he watched Osmond’s expressive face as he watched everyone walking to and from the castle.

“Yes. Oh, there’s Sir Leon. Hi, Sir Leon!” Osmond called out as he waved, and when the knight looked up at him after his servant got his attention and pointed up towards the window, Osmond grinned.

Merlin rested his arms beside Osmond’s and watched as Sir Leon got onto his horse and waved to them as he rode in the opposite direction. Once Sir Leon was out of sight, Merlin turned to Osmond. “I thought you had strict orders not to overexert yourself.”

“Over-what?” asked Osmond? scrunching up his nose and face.

“Overexert,” replied Merlin, trying to look stern. “It means to do too much. It means to skip around a room when you have been ill,” Merlin said, and he shook his head. “Like you were doing when I came out of my room?”

“Oh,” and little eyes opened wide as they turned towards Merlin. “I forgot.”

“Yes, well, this is not something you can afford to forget about. We just got you well; we don’t want you to be ill again.”

“I know. Sorry, Merlin,” Osmond said, a small frown on his face, but then he smiled and turned back towards the window. “I do hope the wind has gone away. Mother said under no circstance am I to go out if the wind is as it was yesterday.”

“You mean circumstance,” Merlin corrected, a smile on his face as he heard Gaius chuckling.

“What does that mean, Merlin? Is it … cutting off something?”

Merlin had to think on that for a bit, then he let out a small laugh when he realised what Osmond had been thinking of, and he wondered where the boy had heard such a word. He would bet everything he had that Percival had been the one to introduce the prince to such, albeit unintentionally. “No, circumstance means _situation_ , but as the wind has left us for other places that need it more, you will be fine outdoors and don’t need to worry about that.” Big blue eyes looked up at him and then they were gone, the boy smiling so widely that his eyes were mere slits. This brought a genuine smile to Merlin’s lips. “I see you finally lost your first tooth. How did it come out?”

“Sir Percival pulled it for me,” Osmond said. He put a finger in his mouth and ran it over the empty space where his tooth had been the day before, though he removed it at a sharp look from Merlin. “He told me if I didn’t cry he would allow me to watch him and Sir Leon practice for the tourney Camelot will host in a few months to honour my father.”

“Did you cry?” Merlin asked, somewhat distractedly, not quite believing that it was that time of year already—for the annual tourney that had been held each year since Arthur's death.  He knew it was, of course—he had already begun Osmond’s fittings for the five different outfits he would need—but the tourney had always been a difficult time for him.  Nevertheless, as always happened, Merlin knew he would throw himself into getting Osmond ready, and then he would get him to where he should be when he needed to be there.  Then, after a week, it would all be over again for another year.  Merlin looked forward to that.  But, for now, he had a frowning six-year-old looking at him.  “What?”

“No, I didn’t cry!” replied Osmond, looking affronted that Merlin had asked such a question. “Sir Percival told me to close my eyes and then he told me a story … one of those fairy tales, and, in the middle, when I was wondering what was going to happen next, he pulled it. It hurt, but not too badly.”

“And you watched them prepare for the tourney, did you? How was that?” Merlin asked, certain he would be in for an earful. Osmond loved anything to do with combat and weaponry; he was only six, but he was already quite adept with weapons. The knights made certain of that.

From the time Osmond was three, they had seen to it that he had proper training. None of them were easy on him, but neither were they immune to the boy’s loving and sickly disposition. It was probable that no child within Camelot’s walls had ever wrapped himself so completely around a group of knights. The mightiest of men, who faced danger daily, were a sight to behold when, after long, gruelling hours of practice, at dusk, the boy fell asleep and one of the knights would pick him up and carry him to his mother, or, if she was busy, to Merlin.

“It was great fun, Merlin! You should have seen Sir Percival with the mace. And Sir Donovon jousting. He is really good with the lance! I can’t wait to be able to do what they do.”

“Yes, well, you have a few years before you reach their prowess,” said Merlin, and he didn’t feel the least bit guilty when Osmond frowned. “You—“ Merlin started to say, but stopped when he heard Gaius calling Osmond’s name.

“Eat up; you have a busy day ahead of you.”

Merlin helped Osmond down from the stool and watched him skip back to the table, happiness and innocence personified.

Osmond sat across from Gaius, took a drink from his goblet and stuffed two grapes into his mouth. Merlin took in the scene. The years were going by too quickly. It hardly seemed possible that so much time had passed by since that blustery February morning when Osmond was born.

“Merlin, your food is not getting any warmer,” Gaius said, interrupting his thoughts.

“Where are we going after breakfast, Merlin?” asked Osmond as soon as Merlin was seated beside him.

Merlin admired the boy’s persistence. “Your mother would have my head, Osmond Pendragon, if I told you, and, regardless of what others might say about it,” he added, looking at Gaius, “I quite like my head, big ears and all.” He turned back to Osmond and was rewarded with a giggle.

“My mother would never have your head,” said Osmond, rolling his eyes and continuing to giggle as he looked across the table at Gaius. “Whoever would she get to take care of me if you were gone?” he asked. When Merlin motioned with his head towards Gaius, Osmond shook his own head. “No, Gaius is my teacher; he gives me knowledge, but Mother says he is too busy helping others to have me underfoot all day.”

Merlin pretended to think hard. He sighed. “Hm, well, I suppose Sir Percival’s wife would love to have you,” he said, staving off the laugh he wanted to share. Oh, how he loved Osmond. “I’m sure you’d forget all about me after one day with her.” He pulled a sad face.

“I would never forget you,” Osmond said with all the sincerity a six-year-old could muster. “Please don’t leave me. Mother would be so very sad, as would I. And I think Gaius would be sad, too, would you not?” he asked as he turned towards Gaius, who was eating and trying not to grin.

Gaius, obviously enjoying the banter, smiled as he looked back and forth between the two.

Several minutes later, after Gaius had gone to make a tincture for someone who had taken ill the previous night, and when it was clear Osmond was playing with his food and not eating it, Merlin stood and took both his and Osmond’s plates. “Ready to go?” he asked a minute later when he returned to the table.

“Yes!” Osmond stood and grinned, showing the lost tooth that made him look every bit the mischievous boy he should be, rather than a sickly boy who spent more time in his bed than outdoors. “Mother said my new horse should be ready. Can I ride him today?” asked Osmond as they walked outside and joined the fray of morning in Camelot.

“No, you _may_ not ride him today," Merlin replied, but before he could explain, Osmond stuck out his lip and looked a few seconds away from crying.  Merlin sighed.  He hated it when Osmond became upset, because, really, the boy rarely showed such emotion.  He had always been such a pleasant child and accepted his unfair lot in life as if he were a mature adult rather than a young child.  It was actually heartbreaking for Merlin to watch and so, in this situation, there was no way he was going to deny the boy his moment to be sad. He knelt down before Osmond and put his hands on either side of Osmond's face.  "You didn't let me explain, Osmond.  Your mother wasn't aware that Ian is having your horse’s hooves wrapped in hide today, so he won’t be ready until tomorrow at the earliest.” When Osmond  continued to frown, Merlin sighed dramatically, and, as expected, Osmond looked at him. “Don’t you think Cora deserves one final ride with you? You have been riding her for almost four years, since she and you were both two years of age. Don’t you think she will be sad when you don’t ride her anymore?”

Osmond seemed to think on that question for several seconds, then looked towards the stables and nodded before he looked back at Merlin. “What will happen to Cora when I begin riding my new horse?”

“Your mother has asked Sir Leon to allow Owen to have her,” Merlin replied, knowing this would make Osmond happy. Sir Leon’s son and Osmond were the best of friends and one was rarely seen without the other when Osmond was well.

“That will be great fun, Merlin! Owen’s horse got sick and had to be killed, so we haven’t been able to ride together for a long time, but Mother said Owen won’t be back from his trip for another fortnight.” Osmond’s bottom lip stuck out, showing how this made him feel.

“She is correct. Owen is with his grandparents in Essetir. But the time will go by quickly and he will be back soon.”

The young prince nodded, but his sad face remained as he looked towards the other end of the citadel, where a fair boy with blond hair was standing in the stocks. “Merlin?” Osmond asked, looking up at Merlin, a curious look on his face.

“Yes?”

“My daddy was killed because he was king, wasn’t he?”

Merlin opened his mouth to reply, but closed it. What was he to say to that?” But he would have to say something unless he wanted other, more difficult questions to follow, and this one was quite enough to be going on with. “There were bad people, Osmond. They didn’t like what your father was doing so they killed him, yes, but not all kings are killed,” was his answer, even if it was misleading. Difficult as it was to think, Merlin knew that kings didn’t have the best survival rate when it came to longevity, but he would cut off his right arm before he told that to Osmond.

“I don’t want to put people in the stocks, Merlin,” Osmond said as another group of young people began throwing rotten tomatoes at the boy.

Merlin wasn’t sure what the connection could be between Arthur being killed and Osmond not wanting to put people in the stocks, but that didn’t much matter. “When you are king, Osmond, you can make your own rules. If you don’t want to put anyone in the stocks, you won’t have to.”

“Good.”

Thankfully, they had reached the stables. Of course, being at the stables didn’t mean an end to the questions, but Merlin hoped at least this line of questioning would end. “Ian, could you please bring us our horses?” Merlin asked the stable-hand as he walked up to them.

Ian nodded to Merlin and gave him a slight bow of the head. “And how are you this morning, Sire?” he then asked as he looked at Osmond.

“Good! Merlin and I are going on a ‘venture, Ian!”

“You are? How exciting!” replied Ian, a huge smile on his face as he glanced at Merlin. He, of course, was in on the surprise. Merlin had told him to have everything ready for them so they wouldn’t have to wait long before leaving. “I will have your horses and supplies brought to you,” Ian said as he walked towards the back of the stables.

“Sir Percival!” Osmond called out to the knight who had just entered the stables. “Merlin and I are going on a “venture!”

“And where are you off to today, Sire?” the knight asked as he reached down and picked up something he had dropped.

“Merlin and my mother won’t tell me. It’s a s’prise.”

“Well, I am quite sure whatever it is will be a good one, my little Pendragon,” Percival said as he looked up at Merlin and gave a small smile, but he quickly returned his attention to Osmond. “I’ve got to go. Just wanted to come say hello.”

“Why does Sir Percival always look so sad, Merlin?” asked Osmond after the knight was gone.

“I wish I knew,” was what Merlin said, but he knew the reason for Percival's sadness; it had been seven years, but there were some things that time couldn't heal. “Don’t know, Osmond.”

“Mother says he lost a friend before I was born and that he misses him.”

“Yeah, he did,” Merlin said, not wanting to get into this discussion with the six-year-old, so he was most thankful when the horses arrived several minutes later saddled and loaded with their supplies. Ian lifted Osmond and set him on the saddle that Sir Leon had given him when he turned five. It was the boy’s pride and joy.

“If you look in your saddle bag, Osmond, there might be something in there for you,” Ian said, grinning as he made sure that the small boy was secured as best he could be. “Have fun today; I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Bye, Ian,” Osmond said as the stable-hand turned to help Sir Donovon, who had walked up whilst they were talking.

Osmond opened the bag and squealed as he pulled out a play sword. “Merlin, look what Ian gave me!”

Merlin grinned at Osmond, who was wielding the small play sword as if he were about to challenge someone to a duel. It was adorable, but Merlin wondered why Osmond was so excited about a sword that wasn’t real. He had several _real_ swords, but he was not allowed to play with those; he could only use them whilst training … and then it hit Merlin that that was precisely why Osmond was so animated with the play sword. Merlin grinned at the small boy sitting on his horse, a play sword in his right hand, as if he were about to ride off into combat.  “Oh, will you protect us, Sir Osmond, if we come upon bandits?” he asked.

“It would be my honour, Sire, to do so,” and the little boy bowed his head towards Merlin with a giggle. “Merlin?” he then asked, all pretense gone.

“Yes?”

“Mother told me to listen to you and do as you say. She says you will always be here for me. Do you promise you will always be here?”

“I will always be here for you, Osmond. _Al—always,_ ” he repeated, more for himself than Osmond, and, perhaps for the first time since his father had given him the unfortunate news that he would probably live forever, Merlin was happy to say so.

“I wish you could be my daddy,” Osmond then said, looking at Merlin hesitantly, as if he wasn’t sure he should have said such a thing.

 It shocked Merlin so much he let out a cry, but he covered it up with a cough before giving Osmond a small smile. “You know where your daddy is, little one. I love you very much and I will do many things with you that your daddy and you would do, if he was here, but Osmond, you will only ever have one daddy.”

Osmond shook his head and frowned. “No, Merlin, you are wrong. Yes, my daddy died, but I can still have two daddies. There was a lady who once lived here who had two daddies; I heard Mother talking to Sir Leon about her yesterday.”

Merlin took a deep breath. _Morgana._ Seven years had passed, but thinking about her hadn’t got easier. As much hatred as he had for her, she had once been a breath of fresh air in Camelot, and yes, she had had two fathers, and there had been nothing at all wrong with that. One didn’t have to sign parchment or give life to a child to be a _daddy_. He nodded towards Osmond and received a beatific smile in response. He knew he had probably mucked this up royally, and he knew there would be more talk on this subject later, but he would worry about that when the time came. At present, he decided it a good idea to thank Gwen again for allowing him to be in her son’s life.

“I love you, Merlin.”

Merlin, feeling as if his life were just about perfect, guided his horse and motioned Osmond to join him so they would be side by side. They began a slow trot. “I love you, too, Osmond,” he said, grinning at the small boy who looked like a natural on Cora. Merlin would be sad to see Osmond on his new horse, but as the boy was more than a little excited at the prospect, Merlin was happy for him.

Change was inevitable. It always had been and always would be.

The two rode in silence for several minutes, then Merlin decided it was time to pick up the pace a bit and see how Osmond was on his horse. He didn’t want to get Osmond too worked up, especially after giving the boy a lecture earlier about overexerting himself, but the prince needed to build up his stamina. Sickly or not, he was to one day be king, and the people of Camelot expected certain things of him. Merlin didn’t at all like that aspect of Osmond’s life, but there was nothing to be done for it. “Want to give Cora one last workout?” Merlin asked, grinning.

“Yes!” And Osmond was off like a bolt of lightning.

Merlin laughed and soon joined him, enjoying the workout. He had missed his daily rides with Osmond and looked forward to many more in the years to come, but this would probably be one of the last for this season.  They continued to gallop for several minutes before Merlin slowed to a trot. “Time to rest, Osmond. There’s a stream ahead. Let’s stop there and have a break. We can eat some of the fruit your mother packed for us.”

“Please tell me where we are going, Merlin,” Osmond asked several seconds later as his horse slowed to a canter beside Merlin's. “Please?” he again repeated as he looked at Merlin, his wide grin showing his missing tooth.

Merlin wondered how long it would take for another tooth to replace it, and how long it would be before he lost another. Osmond was growing up too fast. Merlin wished he could stop time.  “Sorry, my little Pendragon. I can’t tell you that. You’ll just have to wait and see for yourself.”

“I thought that is what you would say,” and Osmond let out a sigh.

“Good try,” Merlin said, giving the boy a nod of respect.

They rode for another five minutes, and then stopped. Merlin dismounted and secured his horse. He walked over to the smaller horse and lifted Osmond down. He was much too thin and Merlin wondered if he would always be so much smaller than others his age. But he had no control over that. Whatever was going to be would be.  “Let’s go sit by that stream. Here, take these.” He handed Osmond two apples from the assortment of fruit in the bag that was tied to the back of his saddle, and then he made sure Cora was secured before he led Osmond to an old tree trunk on the embankment. They sat down and Osmond smiled as if life couldn’t get any better.

Merlin picked up a stone and skipped it, then accepted the offered apple and took a bite. He looked at Osmond, whose mouth was filled with apple, and he shook his head as he watched Osmond attempting to chew the mouthful that would have been too much for an adult. “You are lucky your mother isn’t here, silly boy,” and Merlin ruffled the head of Osmond as he took another bite of his own apple.

“I did not mean to bite off that much,” Osmond said after he swallowed, looking at Merlin innocently, but his grin and eventual giggles told a different story.

“Yes, well, you will remember not to do the same tonight at the Samhain feast, yes?”

“Merlin, I mind my manners,” he said, looking at Merlin as if he had forgot who he was with.

“Oh, yes, you are a little prince, who never ever does what he isn’t supposed to.”

“Meeerliiin, you’re teasing me!”

“Just keeping you humble, my little one.”

Osmond opened his mouth and looked surprised as he looked at Merlin. “Merlin, last night, Mother told me a story and she said it was to teach me about being humble. The same thing you just said to me!”

“Yes, well, being humble is something we should all strive to do. So what story did your mother tell you?”

“A story about you and my daddy.”

“Oh, did she? Which one?” Merlin asked, curious. There were plenty of stories where he had had to humble himself, but, somehow, Merlin didn’t think any of those would have been shared.

“She told me about the time my daddy saved your life by getting a flower. Did you really almost die, Merlin?”

“Oh, yeah,” Merlin said, understanding exactly why this particular story had been shared with the six-year-old. “I did nearly die. I don’t remember much of what happened, but had it not been for your daddy, I wouldn’t be here today. He was brave and a true friend to go find that flower for a servant, Osmond. Not many nobles would risk their life for someone such as me.”

Osmond furrowed his brows. “But I would!” he said, indignantly.

Oh, how Merlin loved this child. “Thank you for that, Osmond. I am very glad your mother has raised you with such beliefs; they will serve you well when you one day become king.”

“I hope I can be as good a king as my father was,” Osmond said.

“Oh, I think you’ll be a great king, just as your father was.”

“Everyone says such lovely things about my father and I just want to be like him. I want to make my mother proud.”

“You do. You don’t realise how much you do, Osmond. Your mother couldn’t be prouder of you, and let me assure you that you are very like your father. I wasn’t in Camelot when your father was the age you are now, but I have every confidence that you will grow into a fine young man, just as your father did. When I watched you the other day, as you trained with the mace, I was amazed. You really are going to be a fine warrior when you are older, just as your father was.”

This statement brought out the broad smile the boy was famous for. “That was only my second lesson with the mace. I don’t like it much; it is not as easy as the sword to control, but Sir Percival said that I will one day master and learn to like it.” Osmond’s smile wavered. “Mother does not like me learning all the weapons, does she?”

“No, that she does not,” Merlin said, picking up another stone and skipping it into the stream. “You are her son, and those weapons you wield have the potential to maim and kill.” Merlin picked up a flat stone, handed it to Osmond and showed him how to throw it so it would skip across the water. Together, they threw it and it skipped. Osmond grinned and took another from Merlin, but held it in his hand and played with it as Merlin began speaking again. “One day you will fight with those weapons in earnest, Osmond, and that terrifies your mother. So, do us a favour, and practice. In a year’s time you will be presented with your first manservant. He will be your training partner for the next ten years, until you have mastered all the different weapons. It is imperative that you practice daily. Your father was a consummate perfectionist when it came to weaponry. At times, I thought he went above and beyond the call of duty, but that wasn’t at all true, Osmond. His duty as the future king necessitated that he learn his craft, and learn he did. You must do the same.” Osmond nodded and threw the stone. This time it hit the water and vanished instantly. He frowned. “You’ll get better with practice,” Merlin said as he skipped another stone.

“I will practice, Merlin,” Osmond said, then he sighed. “I will make you proud of me.”

“I’m already proud of you, Osmond.” Merlin wished he could make this little boy see how much happiness he had brought everyone. “So very proud.”

“Okay, then I will make you prouder!” and that huge smile on the little face shone brightly again.

Merlin didn’t think it possible for him to be any prouder of the boy. “Of that I have no doubt.”

“You served my daddy, Merlin. The knights and Mother tell me about him and what he was like, but Mother says no one knew him like you. Could you tell me what he was like? Please?” he asked, pleading.

“It would be an honour to do so, Osmond,” said Merlin, thinking that there was nothing he would rather do than talk to Arthur's son about his father. It hadn’t always been that way., though. There had been a time when he hadn’t been able to talk about Arthur at all—it had been too difficult—but a little two-year-old Osmond, calling Merlin daddy, had made it impossible for him to continue pushing the memories away. That day had been a turning point and Merlin hadn’t passed up an opportunity since to speak of Arthur or reminisce about all the good times they had spent together.

 

 

 

“Princess Mithian!” Osmond yelled out when he saw the approaching delegation. He turned to Merlin, almost bouncing with excitement in his saddle. “I thought Mother said she had gone on a journey to a far-off kingdom!”

“Yes, well, we’ve had this planned for more than a month, so your mother made up that story to keep it a surprise,” replied Merlin, an expression of satisfaction on his face at having successfully withheld this secret.

“That was devious of you, Merlin,” Osmond said, sounding far more mature than the six years he was as he pierced Merlin with his baby blue eyes. “I thought you told me it was not nice to keep secrets,” said the excited little boy, grinning widely.

Merlin didn’t feel the least amount of guilt. “Yes, well, this secret was special and your mother and I wanted to surprise you. Since you were ill when Princess Mithian was last in Camelot, the three of us thought it would please you to see your favourite princess in the world,” Merlin said as he dismounted his horse, secured him, then lifted Osmond off Cora and set him down to wait for the small delegation to make their way towards them. Osmond waved and grinned, showing off his missing tooth. Merlin couldn’t have been prouder.

A few minutes later, Mithian got down from her horse with the help of one of her guards, and knelt so she was on the same level as Osmond, who ran towards her. She hugged him and lifted him into her arms. Osmond, who usually fussed whenever his mother or Merlin picked him up, as if he were a small child, merely grinned at Mithian and hugged her neck. Merlin let out a laugh. The prince was only six, yet he was already charming princesses. Truth be told, he had been charming this particular princess for more than five years.

“Oh, how it gladdens my heart to see my little Osmond. How are you, my love?” Mithian asked as she looked him over. She glanced at Merlin and smiled. Merlin grinned back at her, letting his own delight at seeing her show through. She then returned her attention to Osmond. “The last time I was in Camelot, you were in bed with the sickness that affects your nose and chest. I wanted so very badly to come visit you, but Gaius thought it best I not do so. You look much improved.”

“Thank you, Princess Mithian,” Osmond said as he looked between Mithian and Merlin.

Mithian set Osmond down and walked over to greet Merlin, who kissed her hand. This elicited a giggle from Osmond. She turned back to the laughing child and let out a small chuckle. “Why do you laugh? Merlin is doing what any proper gentleman would do when greeting a lady. Someday, you will do the same, Osmond,” and, to emphasize her words, she gave him a small curtsey. The little boy looked at her with wide eyes, walked up to her and kissed her on the hand that she held out. Then, of course, he broke into more giggles, and Mithian and Merlin joined in.

“When I grow up to be king, I shall do this to all the ladies,” he said, very seriously.

Merlin cleared his throat. “Future king, I shall hold you to that when you come of age, but for now I think we should help Princess Mithian’s servants set out the picnic, would you not agree?” he asked, giving the boy a sweeping bow.

The boy rolled his eyes. “Yes, Merlin, we should.”

Merlin grabbed a basket from one of the serving maids and began following another male servant, who was carrying a blanket. Mithian joined Merlin.

“How is he?” She asked, her voice barely over a whisper.

“He seems to be doing well, but it is a day-to-day thing with him when he has been as ill as he was.”

“Yes. That can't be easy for his mother, or any of you.  I was so frightened to receive the queen’s letter, informing me that Osmond wasn’t improving,” she replied, worry in her voice.

“Yeah, we were all fearful of what could have happened. Thankfully, he appears to be doing well, and that is all any of us can ask for.” Merlin forced a thin smile.

“Yes, and we are all so very thankful for that,” she said as she looked over at Osmond and grinned.

“Are you talking about me, Merlin?” Osmond asked as he joined them, carrying an apple and orange. He looked up at Mithian. “My mother says the weather has been cooperating so that I can continue to go outside. It took a long while for the last sickness to pass, but now I feel good; Mother even let me begin practicing with the weapons again the other day, but she told everyone I can only practice for ten minutes each day until a month’s time has passed,” he said, his lips turning down into a frown.

Mithian looked at Merlin and gave him a commiserating smile before returning her attention to Osmond. “I’m glad to hear of your improved health, Osmond. You had me quite concerned there for a while,” she said, her face serious, but then she smiled and glanced briefly at Merlin before looking back at Osmond. “My father has sent a gift for you, little one, that will lift your spirits quite a bit, but you must first promise me that you will do as your mother, Merlin, Gaius and the knights tell you to do. They are worried about you and only want to see you get well. It would be rather rude of you not to heed their advice and take ill because of it, would it not?”

Osmond thought for a moment, then nodded, but a few seconds later his face fell into an expression of sadness. “I so wish I could be normal, like everyone else, but my mother says I am special and that I should be thankful for what I have.” Osmond looked at Merlin and tried to grin. He failed, but when he turned his attention back to Mithian, he did manage a small smile. “I am most thankful, Princess Mithian, really, I am. But sometimes it’s difficult. It’s bad enough that everyone treats me like they do because my mother is queen, but at least if I could go outside when I wanted, it would be better.”  He kicked a loose piece of earth and watched as it travelled less than a yard.

“Yes,” Mithian said, sighing rather exaggeratedly. She winked at Merlin. “I often think the same; my father and my servants and my guards make it rather inconvenient for me to go outdoors whenever I want. It can be such a bother being a princess.” She shook her head and hid a grin when Merlin let out a brief laugh.

“Yes, and it is no fun being a prince, either,” Osmond said, seriously, as if his status were a curse. “Yesterday I was out training near the Druid settlement and some of the Druid boys were talking amongst themselves. I thought I heard my name mentioned, but when I approached them, they all became quiet. I think they were talking about me; one of them said something about someone being ill. It was me. Why else would they have walked away when I started walking towards them?” It was clear the experience had affected him deeply.

Mithian again knelt so she was on the same level as Osmond and motioned for him to join her. She set her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes.  “I’ve never shared this with anyone other than my family, Osmond, but when I was a child my legs did not work well. Until I was eleven, I could not walk unaided. The children were horrid, and my being a princess didn’t at all matter to them. My mother told me not to listen to their taunts, but it was hard not to do so. But then, ever so slowly, my legs began to improve. It took many years, but after endless practice and more tears than you can imagine, my legs began to work correctly. I don’t know that you will be cured of your bouts of illnesses, Osmond, and I can’t make the hurt from those boys ignoring you go away, but what I do know is that you have so many wonderful, loving people around you, each day, and they would do almost anything for you. Never forget that.” She looked up at Merlin, her smile faltering, showing her worry.

“Thank you for that,” Merlin said in little more than a whisper, but Mithian heard him and nodded. He swallowed and looked back at Osmond, apprehensive about what he had said regarding the Druids.

When Osmond and Mithian began talking, it gave Merlin time to sort out his thoughts regarding the Druids possibly knowing about Osmond’s illness. This information unsettled him. Yes, everyone around Camelot was aware that the the prince was prone to sickness, but the Druids had seer abilities that made Merlin uneasy. As much as the Druids were left alone these days, their ways continued to be frowned upon—magic was still banned and punishable by death—thus their situation was perilous. If they were ever to discover the true nature of the young prince’s illness … and treatment, Merlin knew that the results could be catastrophic for him, and for Osmond.

Once upon a time, long ago, the Druids had seemed to accept Merlin, but many of those elders had died and the newer ones didn’t seem nearly as accepting. The younger generation of Druids had an intense hatred for Camelot and the nobility within, thus Merlin knew he would need to pay closer attention than usual to anything having to do with the Druids.

 

 

 

The queen, already dressed in her evening attire for the Samhain feast, examined the exquisitely crafted dagger and marvelled at the intricate carvings on the hilt. Her son stood before her, waiting with bated breath for her assessment. Gwen smiled as she turned it in her hand. “This has been forged by a master blacksmith. It is beautiful, Osmond. Princess Mithian and her father have given you an expensive gift that I hope you appreciate.”

“Yes, I do, Mother, and I shall take care of it. May I wear it tonight?”

Gwen pondered this for a moment. “Yes. I think it would look very smart with your outfit,” she said, looking towards her son’s bed, where his clothes for the evening had been laid out.

Osmond’s resulting smile lit up the darkening room. “I wish I could marry Princess Mithian when I get old enough, but Merlin says that would not work,” he said, a frown forming as he looked up at Merlin. “Why not, Mother?”

Gwen looked at Merlin helplessly, but Merlin gave a small smile and a shrug that said he was staying out of this one. “You’re no help,” she said, shaking her head. She looked back at her son, who was awaiting her answer. “I dare say she is a few years too old for you, my love.”

“How old is she?” Osmond asked.

Merlin made a noise and Osmond looked at him curiously. “Osmond,” Merlin said, trying valiantly to hide his laughter, “it is not at all appropriate to ask the age of a lady,” he added, aware that he had done the same thing several times in his youth and that his mother had replied to him in just the same manner.

“I forgot. Sorry,”

Osmond said as he returned his attention to his mother. “I overheard Owen telling someone that she was twenty-six.”

“She is that, Osmond,” his mother replied to him. “So you see? You, being only six, have many years to wait before you are of age to marry. You can’t expect Princess Mithian to wait for you, now can you?”

Osmond seemed to give the matter serious consideration, and then he sighed. “No, I guess not, but if she is not married when I am of age, I shall court her properly and I shall make her my wife.” His grin returned in full.

Gwen nodded. “Well now, I think someone needs to get their bath. We have a big night ahead of us, do we not? I have court matters to attend to, but I shall be here to get you when it is time to go to the feast. Merlin,” she added as she turned and faced him, “make sure he cleans his teeth, and don’t allow him to eat anything after.” To reiterate her point she turned back to her son. “Understood?”

“Yes, Mother,” replied the prince, all proper and princely, but he shared a look with Merlin that was all six-year-old little boy.

 

 

Two hours later, once everyone was seated, ready to partake in the annual Samhain Feast, Gwen stood, gave her speech—almost the same as every other year, Merlin thought—then told everyone to eat, drink and be merry.

Merlin couldn’t have been more proud of her. She had done wonderfully in her role as queen. As uncomfortable as it had been for her to rule Camelot alone in the year following Arthur’s death, she had grown into the role. She wielded the love everyone had for her and used that to help her rule Camelot as Arthur would have wished her to do.

As her husband had been, Gwen was compassionate and listened to her subjects whenever possible, and she was open to many things that Arthur and Uther hadn’t, but there remained one thing that she was still undecided about, and that was sorcery. Although magic had lifted the spell of control Morgana had laid on her, there were too many other times where magic had been used for ill rather than good and it was those that gave Gwen trouble. She was not completely opposed to one day reinstating magic—she had asked Merlin what his thoughts were on the subject on several occasions—but that day did not appear to be imminent. Merlin wished that were not so, but he trusted that one day things would be different.

“Hi, Merlin,” said a familiar little boy’s voice from behind.

Merlin turned around to see Osmond looking at him, a wide grin on his face. Merlin was sure his grin was just as wide as he shook his head, wondering if life got any better than this. “Osmond,” he said, a tiny bit of exasperation in his voice, a huge amount of pride. There hadn’t been a formal dinner yet that the prince hadn’t come to sit by him. “You know that you should be sitting with your mother. The feast isn’t over yet.”

“Yes, I know, but there is no one for me to talk to up there, Merlin,” Osmond said, his bottom lip sticking out as he turned around and pointed to the table where his mother was talking to the person seated next to her. “Mother is talking to people I’ve never seen before, so I did not think she would mind if I came and sat with you. Please let me sit with you,” he pleaded. “This place is empty. I could sit here,” he said, once again grinning at Merlin.  He obviously knew he would get his way and get to sit with Merlin for the remainder of the feast; he always had in the past, so why would this time be any different?

Merlin smiled and silently thanked the courtier who had placed the chair beside his. It seemed as though they had finally caught on to Osmond’s formal dinner antics. “Okay, but if you get me in trouble …” Merlin left the rest unsaid.

“You will not get in trouble, Merlin,” Osmond said as he climbed onto the chair. “Sir Donovon saw me coming over here, so he can tell Mother where I am,” he then said as he reached over and grabbed a handful of grapes from Merlin’s plate. “Can I ask you a question?” Curious blue eyes looked up at Merlin.

“Yes, you _may_ ask me a question,” Merlin said, a bit curious as to why Osmond would be asking permission to ask a question when he never had done before.

“Owen told me that one Samhain a veil was opened, but when I asked what that meant, Sir Leon told us that it was time to go to bed and that we were too young to be talking about such things. What happened?” Osmond asked, picking up another grape and studying it intently before putting it into his mouth.

Such an innocent question. Merlin knew Osmond hadn’t meant anything bad by asking, but his entire demeanour shifted and it was as if a pall had fallen over him. Among the many things he didn’t want to think about, the Samhain when Morgana and Morgause had ripped the veil open, had to rank near the top. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Gaius, who was seated beside him, asked.

“Yeah,” Merlin replied, and swallowed as he re-opened his eyes. Taking another deep breath, he looked at Osmond, who was staring at him, waiting for a reply. “It was long ago and was a frightening time for us all. Just as Owen’s father said, the two of you are too young to hear of such things. Your mother would agree. Perhaps in a few years, when you are older, I will share with you what happened.”

Osmond didn't appear at all happy with that answer, but a look from Gaius was all it took to quiet him. Merlin was about to thank him when a dreadfully familiar coldness settled over him.

He froze.

No.

Not again. Merlin looked around him. He could see nothing unusual—everyone was carrying on as they had been: eating and talking with one another—but he became colder with each passing second and he shivered at what felt like ice-cold shards of ice going up and down his spine. He noticed Gaius looking at him with an expression of concern on his face. But the Cailleach never appeared, nor did high-pitched screams echo through the room. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the chilling feeling faded as if nothing had happened. Yet it had.

“Did you see her?” Gaius asked, quietly so Osmond wouldn’t overhear.

Merlin opened his mouth to speak, but swallowed instead. He tried again. “No. Last time she appeared almost immediately after I felt the coldness. This was different. If you’ll make sure Osmond gets back to Gwen, I need to go out for a while. I shan’t be long.”

Gaius nodded. “Be careful, Merlin.”

Ten minutes later, the last Dragonlord called for help, wondering if there was a dragon left to answer his call. He had neither seen nor spoken to Kilgharrah since the dragon had flown him and Arthur to Avalon. For all he knew, Kilgharrah could be dead. But there was a chance Aithusa would answer his call.

When Kilgharrah flew into the clearing, Merlin was surprised to see him looking as strong as ever. His wing was no longer lame, and he seemed far younger than last Merlin had seen him. Aithusa was with him.

Merlin’s face must have shown his surprise, because Kilgharrah chuckled after he landed.

“Fear not, young warlock. Aithusa bears no ill-will towards you. It was not his fault that the witch found him and made him hers. He has suffered greatly because of his time with her. Whilst he is able to fly and can breathe fire as all dragons should, his ability to speak is not yet as it should be. For the past seven years I have been teaching him. It will be several years before he will be able to communicate as I do, but this is a mere several months in the lifespan of a dragon.”

Merlin felt awe as he stared at the young dragon. He was beautiful. “And this is why you lived. You wanted to be sure he grew into the dragon he was meant to be.” _And_   _the dragon that would one day succeed you_ , Merlin thought, overwhelmed by the selflessness of Kilgharrah, who was old and tired, but had chosen to live and help his kin.

“Yes, I must confess, I did not think Aithusa would ever escape the clutches of the witch, Morgana. I feared he was lost to us, but when he flew to me two days after his mistress had been killed, I knew I had to see to it that he could one day take my place. You have overcome many trials, Merlin, and these past few years have been a time of peace, but it will not remain this way. One day you will need Aithusa and he will need you. It is up to you and me to keep him safe from those who would see him dead, young warlock. I shall do my part, but, you, too, have your role to play. You must respect him as you do me. You wield great power over him and he must do as you command. Never take advantage of that. He will one day be able to help you as I have and it is my hope that he can respect you as I do. Now, what is it the young warlock needs from me? I am quite certain you have not called me just to see how I fare.” He again chuckled.

Merlin nodded and told Kilgharrah what had transpired over the past hour, remembering the feeling of the chill in his spine as he did so.

Once Merlin finished, the dragon sighed heavily, looked over towards Aithusa, then back at Merlin. “This is not as it was last time, Merlin. The veil between the two worlds has not been torn, but I fear that you and those you love are in danger, but not from rival kingdoms. This is quite unlike any threat of the past. This is one that will hit very close for you and those you love. Take heed, Merlin, for great trials lie ahead.”

“Can you give me any idea what can be done? Anything?” Merlin asked.

“I wish I could, but this is not for me. This is not my destiny, Merlin. This is for you to understand. I have told you that great trials are ahead, but what I have yet to share with you is that the potential for an unimaginable victory lies in your future. But do not become complacent, young warlock. To get to this victory you must face devastating loss. Now this is where I leave you, but I do so with the knowledge that you have always been destined for greatness. I believe in you, Merlin. Now you must learn to believe in yourself **.** ”

 

 

 

Osmond began coughing, which worried Merlin. It had been almost two months since the prince had last shown the slightest hint of illness, but, as Merlin had told Mithian, it was always only going to be a matter of time before the next bout. Merlin frowned. “I think someone needs to go to bed,” he said, standing up and motioning for Osmond to go with him.

“But it’s early, Merlin; I want to stay here with everyone,” whined Osmond.

Merlin knew how much Osmond disliked being ill and in bed. Unfortunately, that was how the boy seemed to spend a majority of his time. “And you, my little one, aren't feeling well. Neither your mother nor I will allow you to get any worse, if we can help it. If your mother were here, you know that she would be the one telling you it is best for you to go to bed,” Merlin said, softly, wishing that Gwen were here.  And, as if in answer to his plea, Gwen entered the room, looking concerned as she knelt before her son.  She checked him for fever before she looked up at Merlin.

“I’ll take him,” she whispered as she took her son’s small hand in her own and led him from the room.

Merlin watched as the two left, and then he returned to the table, sat down beside Gaius and wondered how much longer the trea—

He froze.

But it wasn’t the same feeling he had had at Samhain.

Merlin swallowed and began to tremble.

The treatment.

Fear unlike anything he had ever known travelled from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet.

He hadn’t given Osmond his infusion that morning.

Breathing heavily and feeling light-headed, he noticed that his palms were beginning to perspire. He looked around him and watched as the others spoke and gestured and carried on like everything was normal, as if one of their fellow diners hadn’t just realised he had sealed the queen’s son’s fate. Merlin brought his hands to his mouth and thought he was going to be sick. He couldn’t imagine how he could have forgot. It made no sense.  Through sickness, travels and overnights at Owens, Osmond's treatent had always been given to him by Merlin, without fail.  Even the time Merlin had been running a temperature of 103, hallucinating that Arthur had come back and was talking to him, he had somehow managed to sneak out from under Gaius's watch to administer the magical infusion. So what had happened to make him forget on this morning?  Merlin slowly turned towards Gaius.

“Merlin, what is wrong? You look pale as a ghost, child,” Gaius said, leaning over and feeling Merlin’s face. “You are burning up.”

Merlin hadn’t a clue as to what he should say. What could he say? Gaius had no idea about the treatments. No one did. It had seemed best that way. Merlin alone had taken responsibility for what he did for Osmond. He moved his hands to the back of his neck and caressed it, unsure what to do, but he knew he had to tell Gaius. He opened and closed his mouth at least three times before he could get a word out. “I need to tell you something, Gaius.” Merlin was shaking so badly he knew he would fall onto the floor if he weren’t already seated and if Gaius wasn’t standing beside him. Merlin shivered. The tears had not yet begun to fall, but he knew they would and, for once, he needed them to.

He watched Gaius walk over to Percival and whisper something in his ear. Then the two of them walked back to Merlin, who couldn't believe that out of everyone, it was Percival who would help him.  Merlin gave the knight a questioning look, and Percival gave him a small smile in return before helping him stand.  He then began leading Merlin to Gaius’s chambers. Merlin could hear Gaius following them. “Thank you, Percival. I don’t know what came over me,” he said, but as he was trembling so violently he could barely walk, he wondered if anything he said was comprehensible.

“It seems there is a sickness going around,” Percival said as he grabbed Merlin to keep him upright. “Osmond isn’t as badly affected as you as of yet, but I fear the child will be in bed for the next several days, as will you.”

About all Merlin could do was nod—if he did anything more, he would most likely be sick all over the floor. He looked at Percival again and thought that he had the worst luck in the history of bad luck.  Not only had he probably killed the prince, but he had been meaning to talk to Percival for the past two weeks, but something or someone had prevented their talking. Now Merlin had the other's complete attention, but even if he wanted to, he couldn't speak at the moment, because all that mattered at the moment was Osmond and what was going to happen to him. Merlin sighed. Perhaps it was best, but he needed to ask Percival why it was that the knight went out of his way to avoid him. Other than when Osmond was involved, Percival seemed to not want anything to do with him; it had been that way for the past six years. Merlin had known from the day Percival returned that he would never get over the loss of Gwaine, and that had been understandable; Merlin would never get over the loss of Arthur. But what he hadn't understood was why Percival had begun to avoid him several months later.  If it had to do with Arthur or Gwaine, Merlin wanted to know.  And if it had to do with him, Merlin needed to know.  Had he done something wrong? Not that Percival and he had ever been close friends, but Merlin had thought they got on well enough, and then there was the fact that they were the only ones who truly knew what the other had gone through the day Gwaine and Arthur had died.

When Percival led him into his room, Merlin collapsed onto his bed, curled up and closed his eyes.

Once Percival was gone, Gaius sat beside him. Merlin stayed as he was for several minutes, but then he sat up, looked over at Gaius and shook his head at the phial offered him.

“This will help, Merlin.”

Merlin shook his head again. He couldn’t take anything; he had no idea what was wrong with him. Whatever ailed him had to be bad, though. For him to have failed to give Osmond his treatment … He closed his eyes and the tears began to fall.

It took him several minutes to compose himself enough to talk and he appreciated Gaius allowing him the time, without pushing. When he finally felt able to begin, he opened his eyes and looked at Gaius. “You said it was a true miracle, Gaius, that Osmond recovered as an infant.”

“Yes, we all thought so. Merlin?” Gaius asked, but he had to have guessed what was coming next.

“It was me, Gaius. I couldn’t watch him die, so I found a way to help him. For six years, every Wednesday morning, I have given him a magical infusion. It is this which has kept him alive. Every Wednesday until this morning, that is.” He reined in his emotions enough to continue. “When I performed the incantation when he was a few months old, I knew that it would work, but I also knew that if I ever missed a treatment, Osmond would die. That was made very clear in the text.” The tears and tremors overwhelmed him and he was unable to continue. It was all he could do to breathe; the sobs and gasps were coming so closely together.

“You need to calm yourself, Merlin. You will do no one any good, especially Osmond, if you make yourself ill.”

“Gaius, what have I done?” Merlin asked, almost hysterical.

“Well, from what you have told me, you saved Osmond’s life. I would say that is a very good thing indeed, Merlin. Are you certain there is nothing to be done? Surely there has to be something,” Gaius said as he stood and walked over to the window.

Merlin shook his head. Osmond was going to die. Several minutes later he felt the bed sink as Gaius sat beside him again. Merlin leant his head on Gaius’s shoulder. “What have I done?” he repeated.

“I think, Merlin, the more appropriate question is what has someone else done? You would never have allowed yourself to forget to give Osmond his infusion. No, this is the work of outside forces, and I am wondering if this has anything to do with what happened a month ago. Perhaps not, but it is strange,” he said, and then he sighed. “Why don’t we go and give Osmond another infusion. It is worth a try, yes?”

Yes, it was worth a try, but Merlin knew it wouldn’t work. It would be too easy. “Yeah,” he said, and he cleared his throat as he stood from the bed and retrieved the book of magic from its hiding place. “You’ll have to get Gwen out of Osmond’s room. It isn’t difficult for me to get in there at five in the morning, but there’s no way she won’t be sitting with Osmond right now.”

“Leave that to me, Merlin.”

 

 

 

It hadn’t worked. Merlin sat on his bed, exhausted and overwhelmed. He hadn’t a clue what could be done. All he knew was that somehow, he had to make this right. Opening the magic book, he began at the beginning and looked over every spell. He was desperate. But after thirty minutes, his eyes became heavy and he found that the words before him made no sense. A good night’s sleep was what he needed. Unfortunately, Merlin knew sleep would not come for him this night. It never had when he was upset.

Too tired and confused to continue looking for cures, and too upset to sleep, Merlin thought that perhaps the time had come for him to put to rest a part of his past that he had held onto for far too long. He took a deep breath and nodded to himself. Yes. But first he had another stop to make, one that was seven years overdue.

Near his emotional limit, Merlin stood in the usual clearing and called for Kilgharrah. When the dragon arrived, Merlin was somewhat saddened that, this time, Aithusa was not with him.

“You wish to visit the once and future king, do you not?”

Merlin nodded.

“Very well.”

Merlin had no idea how much time had passed between their leaving and arriving at the Gateway to Avalon. He slid off the dragon’s back. “I will call you when I’m ready to leave.”

“As you wish, young warlock,” and Merlin watched as the dragon flew away, his wings flapping in the wind. He turned westward and glided through the air, his profile visible against the moon. It was beautiful, watching the dragon take flight, and Merlin felt a surge of pride that he had given Kilgharrah his freedom. It had been the right thing to do.

Turning away from the barely visible dragon, Merlin went to the embankment and sat a few yards from the water’s edge. He closed his eyes as the tears began to flow freely. “I tried, Arthur. I really did. I wanted your son to grow up to be like you. I did everything I knew to do. But I failed him. I failed you. I am so very sorry.”

A bird overhead chirped. Unusual at this time of night.

Merlin opened his eyes and watched the bird circling a section of the lake, silhouetted, as the dragon had been, by the moonlight. Curiosity piqued, he stood and walked into the water to see what had the bird so intent. There was a ripple of water spreading outward, but he had heard no splash to suggest anything had hit the water. He looked up, towards the sky, then back down to the water, and there, clear as day, despite the darkness, was Freya. Smiling. Her reflection shimmered on the moon-lit water and made her sparkle as though she were wearing a thousand diamonds.

“Freya,” Merlin said, almost unbelieving. He brought a hand to his mouth and choked back a sob. She looked so very real, but all she would ever be to him was an image in the water, and that thought hurt Merlin to his core. He slowly reached out as if to touch her, but he dared not. He knew she would disappear if he did.

“Merlin, I’ve come with a message. We have no time to waste. Listen carefully.” She looked at him and smiled, then continued. “What the prince told you and Princess Mithian is true. You, and everyone else, must be vigilant. There are those who are not as friendly as they appear. Those who are persecuted will never be content to remain so.” Then she was gone. No goodbye. Merlin began to tremble, and it wasn’t merely the chill in the night sky causing it.

Two hours later, as dawn began to break, Kilgharrah deposited Merlin at the Great Stones of Nemeton and told him he would be there when called to carry him back to Camelot.

Merlin watched Kilgharrah fly off, then turned and looked at the rocks. He knew he shouldn’t be there. The dead were best left alone. But for the past month Merlin had been thinking about Morgana and knew he needed to talk to her. When Morgana had caused everyone to fall asleep, his poisoning of her had been one of the worst moments of his life. Even though he hadn’t a choice if he wanted to save the people of Camelot, it had broken him and he had never been the same.

He walked forward and took out the Horn of Cathbhadh **.** He studied it, thinking of all the many witches and warlocks who had blown into the horn over the years. Then he thought of the most recent person to do so, who, as fate would have it, could possibly have had magical abilities buried deep within him. Merlin grinned at the thought. Arthur would no doubt have been horrified to realise that he just might have possessed magic. And if he were indeed going to rise from the dead one day, then that meant he most assuredly had magic. The thought made Merlin giddy.

He lifted the horn to his mouth and blew into it. The light that shone seconds later was brighter than anything he had ever seen.

He waited. Then he saw a figure walking towards him. He swallowed. So many different emotions flitted through his mind. Complete and utter disdain would have been understandable, but he also felt sorrow, hurt, and even love. No matter how much he had loathed her at the end, and oh how he had—he still did—there would always be a part of him that would love Morgana and the person she was underneath all the hurt and betrayal. Had he not Arthur to protect, Merlin could have possibly aligned himself with her, early on. He had been so hungry for someone who understood him that he could have easily been led into anything at that stage in his life. Fortunately, his destiny had been to see to Arthur’s safety.

“Merlin.” No emotion. Flat. Morgana Pendragon walked until she stood mere yards from him. “Why ever would you wish to see me again?”

 

 

 

There was no thought needed to answer that. “I wish things could have been different between us, Morgana,” Merlin said, trying to keep his voice steady, but his hands were shaking.

“How very touching. You always were such a faithful servant, Merlin, wanting everyone to like you and accept you, but, even as it pains me to admit it, I should confess that I, too, wish that things could have been different between you and me. But you chose to betray our kind. I, did not. My father would have had me killed had he known I had magic. Do you know what that does to a person? To know that your own father has that much hatred within him? I tried to understand, Merlin, truly, I did, but how can one reconcile such knowledge? Tell me, because I want to understand how you can live with yourself,” said Morgana. “How could you choose his side over ours?”

“How can I live with myself, Morgana? Do you hear yourself? It was not I who came into Camelot and slaughtered innocent people who had never wronged me. What happened to you, Morgana? What happened to that lovely young lady I met and very nearly fell in love with? What happened to that person who saved Mordred and talked Arthur into breaking him out of his cell and taking him back to his people?  What happened to the person who travelled to Ealdor with me to save the people of my village? Please tell me, Morgana, because I really don’t understand. I do know Uther made it extremely difficult for you, and I am sorry for that, I really am. But then you made the decision to turn against us all. I can’t ever forgive you that, nor will I ever be able to forgive you your treatment of Arthur. He loved you, Morgana, as a brother would love a sister, and he would have done anything for you. You know that’s the truth.” Merlin felt himself tensing with each word he spoke.

A laugh, familiar and condescending, broke the momentary silence. “Oh, Merlin. What would you have me say? That I was wrong for what I did to you and everyone else? That I ask your forgiveness?  I wasn’t and I won’t.”

“So you have no regrets over the things you did?” Merlin asked. He couldn’t understand how anyone could be so callous. He shook his head and wanted to say more, but he was too angry at the moment.

“Oh, so now you presume to know my thoughts? Oh, Emrys, you may be the most powerful sorcerer who ever lived, but you really are dense.  But you can’t help that, can you?” she said, mockingly. “Regrets?” she continued, her voice once again biting. “I have them, Merlin. Just as your path was not of your choosing, neither was mine. I didn’t know what Morgause had done to me when she enchanted me to make everyone fall asleep. All I knew was that I was upset with Uther and wanted him dead, but I had made no dramatic declaration that I wanted to join my sister.”

“Yet you did,” replied Merlin, taking shallow breaths, thinking he had made a mistake by going to see Morgana.

“Yes, I did,” she said. “My sister decided the time was right for me to join her and she enchanted me. You know what followed. Then you, as noble as you are, and I do admit that you are far too noble for the likes of me, poisoned me. You had no choice if you wanted to save the people of Camelot. I didn’t know that then, but I do now. But then you took pity on me and saved me by telling my dear sister what you had used.”

“Yeah, that was a mistake, Morgana. I would have never saved your life had I known that you would make everyone’s life a living hell, and that you would be responsible for so many deaths and then ultimately, Arthur’s.” Merlin was so angry, he wanted to leave.

Morgana laughed again. “Oh, poor Merlin,” she said as if she were talking to a baby. “You should have allowed me to die. It would have been best for everyone. You gave my sister the means to save me and she took me away and brought me back from near death. I was grateful for such. I shouldn’t have been. She began training me up to be a high priestess. I can’t say I was unwilling. I was not. I was, however, in over my head and I knew it. But the hatred I had for my father was so great that I allowed myself to be completely immersed in my sister’s world. I make no excuses for my actions, good and bad, but, yes, I do have regrets,” she said, glaring at him. “And, in the end, I did get what you and everyone else thought I deserved, did I not? As did you. The only one who did not get what he deserved was my dear brother. I did love him, Merlin, more than you will ever know. That he died because of me, well, that is my punishment: Not that I died, or that I had no one who cared for me with me when I died, but knowing that someone so good and pure fell because of me … that is a pain that transcends death.” Morgana’s face had lost all expression. She said nothing more.

Merlin felt himself trembling. He had no idea what to say. He wanted to believe what she said about Arthur, but he couldn’t. Had she cared the least bit she would not have said the things she had in the minutes preceding her death. The way she had talked to Arthur had been awful; the memory was one of those that haunted Merlin’s nights more often than not. “I’m sorry, Morgana. I’m sorry that you didn’t have the acceptance you craved. I wanted to help you, but I fear I hurt you far worse by introducing you to the Druids. That is a sorrow I shall carry with me forever.”

“Don’t, Merlin,” she said, her voice reminiscent of the young Lady Morgana that Merlin had met when he had first arrived in Camelot. “I might have turned against Camelot, but it was not the doing of the Druids. When I met them, it was as if everything in my life made sense. Thank you for that. There hasn’t been much happiness in my life, but my brief time spent with the Druids was the happiest I have ever known.”

Morgana smiled and it reminded Merlin of that night all those many years ago when she had entered the room to eat before Lady Helen sang. That had been the first time Merlin had seen Morgana at a formal function and he had been captivated by her beauty. He nodded, regretting the loss of someone who could have been his greatest ally. But it was time to go … to let go. This was why he had come. He would never forget Morgana, but he needed to let her go.

He turned and walked away.

 

 

Merlin yawned as he entered Gwen and Osmond’s chamber, but all thought of sleep fled when he saw the queen, who looked much more tired than he. He swallowed. Gaius had told him Osmond hadn’t had a good night—that he had been struggling to breathe—but Merlin had hoped that perhaps Osmond had improved and was doing better. His hopes were dashed by seeing Gwen looking as sombre as she did. He shook his head, walked up to her and gave her a hug. She began to cry and he rubbed her back.  How could one person be asked to deal with all she had?

“He just got better from his last illness, Merlin,” Gwen said.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. She pulled back and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, but Merlin removed the kerchief from around his neck and wiped her tears with that. “How is Osmond?”

“Not well. I just don’t understand it, Merlin. He has taken ill often, but nothing like this since he was an infant. Why now?”

 _Because I forgot to give him his treatment yesterday morning,_ Merlin thought, but what he did was shrug and look at Gwen sadly. “I wish I could tell you, Gwen,” he said. He really did wish he could.

“Osmond will want to see you,” she said, new tears falling down her cheeks as she looked towards her son’s bed chamber. “You seem to have that magic touch when it comes to him. Thank you.” She let out a small laugh. “What would any of us do without you?”

Uncomfortable, Merlin gave her a meek smile, but said nothing as he followed her to Osmond’s room. As they entered his bed chamber, true to Gwen’s word, Osmond’s head turned towards them and he attempted to smile.

“Merlin!” he said, weakly, but enthusiastically. “Sorry I couldn’t come and have breakfast with you and Gaius, but Mother wouldn’t let me. She said not as long as I have this fever.”

Merlin sat on the edge of the bed and felt Osmond’s forehead. He wasn’t merely hot; the child was burning up. “There will be plenty of other mornings for you to have breakfast with Gaius and me. How are you feeling this morning?” Merlin looked to Gaius, who had apparently been back and forth between Osmond’s bed chamber and his workroom all night, making tinctures and poultices, and felt his heart clench at the physician's worried expression. A cough brought Merlin’s attention back to Osmond.

“I don’t feel so good. My head hurts and I had trouble breathing last night.” Osmond then closed his eyes and fell asleep as if it was normal to speak one second and be fast asleep the next. Merlin turned back towards Gaius.

“He has been given a potent tincture; he should sleep for the next hour,” Gaius said. “I am going to make some more poultices for him. I should be back before he wakes, but if he wakes or if there is any change and he appears to be getting worse, you know where to find me.” He turned, bowed to Gwen and left the room.

Once Gaius was gone, Merlin walked to the other side of the bed to make space for Gwen to sit by her son. He studied mother and son as she leant over and kissed the sleeping Osmond on the forehead. Arthur would be proud of both of them. So very proud. Merlin reached out and took one of Osmond’s hands in his. He held onto it and wished he could make this better with his magic, but he knew that whatever ailed the boy was beyond his magic.

A knock on the door broke his reverie and Sir Leon entered the room.

“Am I interrupting, My Lady?” he asked softly.

“No, not at all, Sir Leon,” Gwen said. She stood up from the bed and walked towards him. “Please come in. Unfortunately, Osmond has just this very moment fallen asleep. He will be so disappointed he missed you.”

Sir Leon walked to the foot of the bed and looked down at the sleeping prince. “Our morning training is about to begin, so I can’t stay long, but the knights have all been worried about Prince Osmond. I have come to enquire about him. Is there anything we can do for him?”

Gwen seemed to think on this for a moment. “There is something all of you can do, Sir Leon. If the knights could come see him before your training this evening, that would make Osmond’s day.”

“We will do that very thing then, My Lady. Please tell Osmond I came by to see him. Owen wanted to come as well. Perhaps if the prince is feeling well enough for company, I could bring him tomorrow afternoon?” When Gwen gave her assent, he bowed and left.

Gwen sighed and looked at Merlin. “Sir Leon is a good man. He has been a real help and I appreciate his counsel. And then there’s little Owen; he is a delight and a breath of fresh air. I am so very glad that he and Osmond are such good friends. I’m not sure who Osmond looks up to more: Sir Leon or Owen. To hear my son talk, you would think Owen was fifteen rather than seven. Although, I think neither of them holds a candle to you, Merlin. My son thinks you hung the moon.”

Merlin grinned as he moved some of Osmond’s fringe off his forehead.  The thing he was proudest of was his role in the young prince’s life.  “I think he’s a special little boy, Gwen.”

“That he is, Merlin. I do hope you know that Arthur would be proud of you for what you have done for his son,” she said, smiling.

“I w—I would like to think so, Gwen,” and Merlin found himself momentarily overcome with emotion. He missed Arthur so very much. When the moment passed, he attempted a smile. “I talked to Morgana,” he then said, needing to get his thoughts off of Arthur.

“I knew you would, Merlin; I'm only surprised it took you this long to do so. You didn’t look back, did you?” she asked as she returned to the bed and sat beside Osmond.

Merlin shook his head. “I had to see her, Gwen. I just had to.”

“You needn’t explain the why to me, Merlin. I make no judgments and might have done the same had I the opportunity. What did she tell you?” Gwen asked, taking a deep breath as she reached over to the bedside table and carefully picked up the bowl of water and set it on the bed. She then took the wet cloth, wringed it out and set it on her son’s forehead.

Merlin shared what Morgana had told him, and then waited curiously to see what Gwen’s response would be.

“I understand what it is to be enchanted and under someone else’s control. I very nearly killed my husband because of it, Merlin. If Morgause was the reason for Morgana beginning her downward spiral, then I am truly sorry for that. No one deserves such a fate, but I can never forgive Morgana for what she did to the people of Camelot and to Arthur. I know she had a good heart, possibly the purest heart of anyone in Camelot for a time. We both saw it. She saved Mordred and she travelled with us to Ealdor to save your village.”

“Uther,” Merlin said. He frowned and shook his head as he watched as Gwen again soaked the cloth in the bowl of water and reapplied it to Osmond’s forehead. She then leant down and kissed him. “I remember thinking how fortunate I was to have someone such as Morgana as a friend. She was a Lady. She was the king’s ward … daughter. There was no reason for her to go to Ealdor, but she did, Gwen. For me. It’s difficult knowing that the same person who was willing to risk her life for me could turn so completely bad.”

“Yes,” Gwen said, sounding as sad as Merlin felt. “I, too, blame Uther. Had he not been so vehemently against magic, Morgana would have continued as she was for the whole of her life, but, of course, we know what happened. My father loved me, Merlin; he died because he was trying to make a better life for me. I haven’t a clue what it is to have a father who would hate me for my abilities. It breaks my heart to think that Uther hated magic so much that he would have his daughter killed. It truly sickens me to think of the betrayal she must have felt. She was such a sweet and loving child and young lady. All the boys loved to be around her.” She allowed herself a grin and a small laugh that reached her eyes. “All except for Arthur, that is. He wouldn’t have anything to do with her when all the other boys came round.”

Merlin grinned. He remembered how Morgana had seemed to want Arthur to like her one moment, but the next she would be as biting and cutting as ever to him, and all the while, even as it was obvious Arthur was not unaffected by Morgana’s beauty, he had never, that Merlin knew of, acted on those feelings. In fact, he had gone to lengths to spar with her and he had seemed to revel in it. But he would also have gone to the ends of the earth for her. It had been a bizarre relationship, but Merlin guessed that was how it was with brothers and sisters, even if the two of them hadn’t realised they were siblings at the time.

Merlin was about to speak this thought to Gwen, but Gaius returned, his hands full, so Merlin went to help him, taking the poultices and putting them on Osmond’s bedside table. “He hasn’t stirred the whole time you’ve been gone,” Merlin said as he sat beside Osmond again and tucked a tuft of blond hair behind his ear. He looked so peaceful. Like Ar— Merlin promptly stood and walked over to the corner, forcing himself to push the thought from his mind. Gwen needed him to be strong. Merlin could not afford to let himself surrender to despair.

“His fever has not gone down, but neither has it risen,” said Gaius. “This is possibly a good sign, but I do not like the way he looks,” Gaius added, and it was this that made Merlin return to his place beside Osmond. “We should get him into an ice bath and lower his fever more. If it rises much more, then his condition will deteriorate quickly, I am afraid.”

“Whatever we need to do, Gaius, we will do,” Gwen said. “Do you think he is going t—” Gwen began, but stopped when Gaius shook his head and motioned to the door.

“Merlin, change the poultices under his arms and between his legs,” Gaius instructed, leading Gwen outside into the corridor, where they could speak freely, without Osmond possibly overhearing.

The door closed and Merlin stared at it for a few seconds, wondering what Gaius was telling Gwen, but then he returned his attention to Osmond and lowered the sheet. He carefully removed the lukewarm poultice from between Osmond’s legs and replaced it with a fresh, cold one. Then he replaced the ones beneath his arms.

When the door opened and Gwen and Gaius came back in, it was obvious Gwen had been crying. Merlin closed his eyes. He knew what the future was for Osmond if nothing magical could be done. “He is burning up, Gaius. I don’t think we should wait a moment longer; he needs to have an ice bath _now_ ,” he said. His eyes travelled between Gwen, Gaius and Osmond.

“Moira has gone to gather some fresh ice from the pits,” Gaius said as he nodded and looked at Merlin. “She will be back soon, but as you said, Osmond is far too warm. It is best we get him in the water immediately. Would you go and fill the bath for him, Merlin, and pour these two phials in?” Gaius asked as he went to his bag, retrieved two small phials and handed them to Merlin.

“Yeah,” Merlin said, not wanting to think about what would happen if Osmond’s fever didn’t go down. He went to fetch the bath and buckets of water.

Thirty minutes later Merlin held Osmond, who had yet to wake, as Gwen bathed him.

“I can’t lose him, Merlin,” Gwen said as she washed her son’s legs.

“There has to be something. Gaius will do all he can to cure him,” Merlin said, hating that he had to tell these untruths. Maybe there was something Gaius could do, but had Merlin given Osmond his treatment as scheduled, none of this would have been necessary.

Merlin watched Gwen carefully bathing her son, and it broke him. When Gwen handed him the cloth, he gently ran it across Osmond’s face, tears streaming down his own face, one after another. He looked up at Gwen, who was also crying, but said nothing.

“Merlin, what would you say if I told you I was thinking of finding someone to use magic to heal him?” Gwen asked, looking pensive as she wiped her tears away.

Just as Merlin opened his mouth to respond, the door opened and Moira entered with a vat of ice. She and Merlin carefully placed the large pieces of ice around the small figure of Osmond, and Gwen picked up a piece and ran it down her son’s face. The ice would have chilled anyone else to the bone, but Osmond didn’t respond. Merlin roughly wiped his tears away and closed his eyes against the threat of new ones. He re-opened his eyes only when he heard the door open and close, then he reached into the bath, retrieved a large piece of ice and did as Gwen was doing, only to Osmond’s arms. “You’re going to be okay, Osmond,” Merlin said, wanting to believe his own words, but then he looked up at Gwen. He needed to respond to her mention of using magic. “It is up to you, Gwen,” was the answer Merlin gave. He would not attempt to influence her as he had Arthur.

“But would _you_? If Osmond were your son? Would you do anything you could to save him?”

That was easy enough to answer. “If Osmond were my son, Gwen, I would do anything in my power to save him. Anything.”

“Do you think that old man, Dragoon, would help me?” Gwen asked, her voice trembling.

Had Merlin thought he could save Osmond, he would have said yes without thought, even though he had made a promise to himself that he would never be Dragoon again—the last had nearly destroyed him, but he knew that there was nothing he could do. “I’m sorry to say he died about a year ago, Gwen. I overheard some of the Druids talking of him. I was more than a bit shocked. I’d thought perhaps he was immortal. Unfortunately, for us, Dragoon was mortal.”

 

 

 

The following morning, after a few hours of restless sleep, Merlin was once again seated on the bed, beside a sleeping Osmond, whilst his mother attended to an emergency council matter. The prince hadn’t had an easy night and his breathing was more laboured than it had been the previous day. Merlin was trying to stay positive, but Osmond’s fever had begun to rise and Gaius had already begun to prepare everyone for the worst. “Fight this, Osmond. Don’t give up,” he whispered.

“Merlin? I need …” rasped the young hoarse voice of Osmond.

“Osmond, I’m here,” Merlin said, his face right above Osmond’s ear. “What do you need?”

“I need my mummy,” he said, two tears slowly making their way down his small face. “I woke up this morning and couldn’t breathe. Am I going to die?” he asked, opening his eyes and letting them dart around the room before resting on Merlin.

“No. No. Of course not. Why would you think that?” Merlin asked, as gently and stoically as he could. He wouldn’t let Osmond see him upset, but it was hard, especially after hearing Osmond addressing his mother as _mummy._ He almost always referred to his father as his _daddy,_ but he had given up calling his mother _mummy_ at the age of four.

“Last time I was sick, when Owen and me were talking, he told me that his mother and father were talking about what would happen if I died. Please tell me the truth, Merlin. I’m really bad sick, aren’t I?”

What should Merlin say? The truth? Osmond was observant and had spent enough time in bed to understand that this time was different. But was it Merlin’s place to confirm Osmond’s thoughts? “Yeah, you are, but you’ll be better soon and you and Owen will be out riding your new horses in no time. That will be fun, won’t it?” Merlin said, smiling as he moved some of Osmond’s fringe out of his eyes. “Ian told me this morning that you have named the horse Gareth. That’s a fine name.”

“Yeah, Mother and I chose it together,” Osmond said, and then he began coughing. He couldn’t stop and he looked at Merlin, his little chin trembling, which meant he was about to cry.

Merlin reached over to the bedside table and poured water into a goblet. “You need to drink this, Osmond,” and Merlin helped him sit up, then he held the goblet to the trembling mouth and watched as Osmond struggled to drink. Merlin had to take a deep breath. He had responsibilities to this little boy, the biggest of which was to not let the prince know how scared everyone was for him.

“If I die, will I see my daddy?” Osmond next asked as he watched Merlin set the goblet of water down on the bedside table.

Merlin breathed in through his nose and then exhaled. “I think you will, Osmond.”

“I would like that very much,” and for the first time that morning, Osmond smiled.

Merlin very nearly gave in to his grief—how was one supposed to remain stoic in the face of such sorrow? So when the door opened and in walked Gwen, Merlin was ever so grateful. He leant over and kissed Osmond on the cheek. “I love you, my little Pendragon.”

“I love you, too, Merlin,” and two little arms reached out for him.

Merlin took Osmond in his arms and picked him up, not caring that the boy was six, not two. He carried him to the end of the bed and turned towards Gwen, tears running down his face as he shook his head. He wasn’t ready to let Arthur's son go.

 

He then walked to Gwen and handed Osmond to her, but not before kissing his face two or three or four times. What if this were the last time he would ever be able to do that? He shook his head again as he looked at Gwen. “There’s something I must do, but I shan’t be long. If there is any change, Gaius will know where I am.”

Gwen couldn’t answer, her own tears making that impossible, but she nodded.

It didn’t take Merlin long to make his way to the Druid settlement, and he soon found a hiding place behind a copse of trees. Once he was settled, he scanned his surroundings, hopeful that his efforts would pay off. Since Osmond had told him that the Druid boys had been talking about him being ill and he had had that experience at the Samhain feast, and then when Freya had given him her message, and then when Osmond had taken a turn for the worse when Merlin had failed to give him his treatment, Merlin had wanted to see if he could glean any information that would prove that his thoughts about the Druids had been correct.  When Gaius had said that he thought someone had caused Merlin to forget to give Osmond his infusion, Merlin had immediately thought of the Druids.  Not that he had believed they would have done such a thing, but who else would have?

He had hidden himself a few times previously and had spent hours listening to conversations that hadn’t meant anything to him, but earlier in the morning, one of Gaius’s patients had mentioned something about some of the Druid boys being up to no good, so Merlin was hopeful that this day would be the day he would find out the information he needed. He was grasping at anything he could, even if it was next to nothing.

Several women came and went, gossiping about what they would prepare for dinner and what lurid things their husbands had been up to—or down to—the night before (Merlin had wished fervently that he could un-hear what they said), but then a group of three boys who Merlin thought he had seen the evening before showed up. They were laughing, talking loudly about some old man who had fallen earlier in the day.

When the oldest looking of them glanced around, as if checking to see if they were alone and began to speak to the others in little more than a whisper, Merlin said a few words and could hear the conversation clearly.

“… Servant has been taken care of, so the boy will die now,” he said, smugly, and when he grinned, Merlin had to force himself not to send him flying into the next village.

So they _had_ done something to him! They could be talking about another servant and another boy, but Merlin didn’t think so. He knew they were talking about him and Osmond. Rage began to build within him, at the thought of someone messing with his magic, and he had to forcefully clamp down on the urge to act. As it was, the wind around him blew with vigour, picking up leaves and loose vegetation and throwing them around. Merlin fought to control his wayward magic and managed to get it under control. Peace was restored to his surroundings.

 “And unless the prophecy is correct, the boy will be dead within days,” the Druid boy added, this time with a laugh. “Little sickly Osmond Pendragon will be no more. First his father, then him. Good riddance, I say.” The other two boys looked at one another, awed expressions on their faces, and then looked back at the other boy.

A prophecy? Merlin didn’t know what to think. There was another prophecy he was unaware of? Or was the boy talking about the one Merlin already knew about? If there was another, why would Kilgharrah not have told him?

“But what would the prophecy have to do with the boy surviving?” the smallest of the three, who also appeared to be the one who was most uncomfortable with the conversation, asked. Merlin didn’t think he could be more than thirteen or fourteen.

“You idiot, only the blood of the father, forged in magic, will save the boy’s life. But you’ve heard the first prophecy—King Arthur would live until magic was once again accepted in Camelot. Well, we know that never happened.”

“But I overheard my father talking to my uncle the other night,” replied the youngest. “They were talking as if King Arthur will come back soon. My uncle said everyone needs to be on the lookout for anyone new in the area.”

“That’s a load of horse’s dung, Matthew. Why would he come back so soon?”

The boy shrugged his shoulders. “’S just what I heard, Charles.”

It was another hour before a stunned Merlin could safely leave his hiding place, and as soon as he was far away from the Druid camp, he called Kilgharrah, told him what he had overheard and asked what the Druids had done to Osmond.

“What the Druids did to the young prince is not important at this time, young warlock. _That he is dying_ is important. His time is running out. If he is to be saved, Merlin, the one you need to go to is the Diamair, who has the answers to everything, and unequalled healing powers.”

Hope flickered in Merlin’s heart. “But how will I get Osmond there? Gwen will not allow anyone to take her son outside the citadel in his current state.”

“If you can gain access to the Cup of Life, Merlin, then it is possible the Diamair will put its healing powers into it. You can bring the water back to the boy. But be warned, young warlock, it might be that not even the Diamair can help.”

Merlin swallowed and nodded. The Diamair would be able to help Osmond. He knew it.

 

 

****

“Are you sure you don’t need my help giving him a bath, Gwen?” Merlin asked as he watched Percival gather Osmond, who was sleeping, into his arms and carry him towards the door.  Osmond looked so tiny and vulnerable. Merlin wanted so very badly to take him in his arms, hold him and never let him go. What if he never had the opportunity to do that again?

“Thank you, Merlin, but I believe Sir Leon needs to speak to you,” she replied, looking pensive and nervous, but when Merlin looked at Osmond, brought his hand to his mouth and shook his head, she approached him and took his hands in hers. “I have to believe that my son will be okay, Merlin. I don’t think it possible for fate to be so cruel as to take both my husband and my son from you and me.” Then she turned and followed Percival.

When Sir Leon, who was standing at the window, looking out over Camelot, cleared his throat, Merlin turned towards him. He had an idea that he wasn’t going to like whatever it was the knight had to say.

 

 

 

“We should discuss the arrangements, Merlin,” Sir Leon said as he continued to look out of the window.

Merlin shook his head. “No.”

“There are matters that must be addressed.”

“No. Not yet,” Merlin said, as calmly as possible.

“The queen ha—”

“—No,” Merlin replied, much more forcefully. “Osmond has yet to breathe his last and I refuse to speak of sending him away.”

“The queen has requested—” began Sir Leon, his voice shaking, but it was obvious he meant to do as he had been told, and deliver the message.

“—I know what she wants, Sir Leon. And yes, yes, I will do it,” replied Merlin, his voice trembling and the tears threatening. “I don’t want to, but yes, I will do it. I will do it. Just, please, I don’t want to talk about it now. I can’t. Please don’t make me,” he pleaded, tears running down his face.

Sir Leon turned around to face Merlin, wiping his own eyes. “Owen asked me this morning if his best friend was going to die, Merlin. I didn’t know what to tell him.”

The tears increased and a sob escaped as Merlin shook his head. “He isn’t gone yet, Sir Leon. He isn’t gone,” but as he turned and looked at the bed, he thought about how tiny and pale Osmond had looked as Sir Percival had picked up the sleeping boy from the bed. All Merlin could see in his mind’s eye was Arthur’s hand falling away from his head, and all he could think was how alone he had felt in that moment. Merlin returned his attention to Sir Leon. "I, like Gwen, refuse to believe that fate could be so cruel."

Sir Leon nodded as he cleared his throat. “I am on patrol this evening, so I must go. I will inform the queen that we have talked and that you have agreed to her request.”

“Thank you,” replied Merlin, not sure why he was thanking Sir Leon, but it seemed the right thing to do.

After Sir Leon left, Merlin sat down on the bed. He couldn’t believe this was happening. More tears fell as he picked up Osmond’s pillow and cradled it to his chest, and before long he was doubled over, the inevitable too much for him to face.

“Merlin,” Gaius said, several minutes later, sitting on the bed. “What happened?”

“Sir Leon came to make arrangements for me to send Osmond off, as I did Arthur,” Merlin replied, roughly wiping his tears away and blowing his nose with a handkerchief Gaius handed him.

“Oh, my boy,” Gaius said, putting an arm around him as Merlin leant his head onto Gaius’s shoulder. “Now you listen to me, Merlin. What Sir Leon did was correct; he has to follow protocol. But that little boy you love so very much has yet to breathe his last, and until he does, we will not give up on him, understood? Osmond has been a fighter for the whole of his life and I do not see that changing.”

Merlin nodded and lifted his head from Gaius’s shoulder. “But it doesn’t look good, does it?”

Gaius shook his head. “No, it does not look at all good. His temperature has reached the point where it will be almost impossible for his little body to survive.”

“I’m not ready to say goodbye to him, Gaius,” Merlin said, more tears finding their way down his face and dropping onto the pillow. He watched as Gaius stood and walked over to the window, and he stood when Gaius motioned for him to join him. “What is it?” he asked.

“Just come. You need to see this,” was all Gaius said.

Merlin did as he was told, and what he saw made him weep all the more.

The whole of Camelot seemed to be standing beneath the window, holding candles that flickered brightly in the evening twilight. No one was making a sound. Merlin continued to stare out at the crowd for several minutes until the tears made it impossible for him to see. He then shifted his focus and studied the glass of the window Gwen had had painted for Osmond after his birth. It was unlike any of the other windows in the castle and when Merlin had asked about it, she had said that she wanted her son to never forget who was out there, beneath his window. The citizens of Camelot had always come first with Arthur and her, and they should do the same with her son. Merlin touched one of the painted Cs and forced a smile. He knew that the people of Camelot were already important to Osmond, and it was more than obvious that this little boy was important to them.

“I am going to see the Diamair, Gaius,” he said, unsure if he should be admitting such. He turned around, hoping Gaius wouldn’t tell him not to go. “If Gwen asks where I am, please tell her I have gone for herbs.”

An hour later, after Sir Percival had returned a still sleeping Osmond to his bed, Merlin went down to the vaults and retrieved the Cup of Life. It was somewhat sad that it was so easy for him to gain access to the vaults. He actually missed the days when he had to work to get down there. That had been half the fun. But that had been a different time—in certain respects, a much more volatile time—and Merlin would have given anything to have that time back. To have Arthur back.

“I am beginning to think I only serve one person, young warlock,” said Kilgharrah an hour later as they took off for Ismere. The dragon gave a brief chuckle as they ascended towards the clouds.

“How is Aithusa?”

“His speaking has improved, but it is a slow process. His ability to speak was taken from him at a vital stage in his development, and regaining it is proving most difficult.”

“How did Morgana get him?” Merlin asked.

“One day, perhaps I will share the story with you, Merlin. This day, however, is not that day.”

“I’m sorry for asking,” Merlin said.

“You should never be sorry for being curious, Merlin, but you should also never be so curious that you are sorry when you do ask.”

Merlin, accustomed he was to Kilgharrah’s special brand of wisdom, nodded. He then felt inside his jacket to be sure the Cup of Life was safe.

“As soon as you no longer have need of the Cup, young warlock, you must return it to where you found it. These are troubled times we are entering and there are people who would covet that which you are carrying.”

The Druids would most definitely covet the Cup—for different reasons than Morgana’s had been—but, no matter the reasons, Merlin agreed that it was best for the Cup to remain within Camelot’s walls. “I will make sure it goes back where I got it,” he promised.

An hour later, the dragon landed and deposited Merlin near the tall tower of Ismere. “Call me when you are ready for me to retrieve you,” he said.  Merlin nodded his thanks and watched the dragon fly away, before looking up at the tower.

He had been to more than his fair share of towers over the years and he had no inclination to go traipsing into this one again; it held too many dark memories. He would do so, however, because he needed to find a cure for Osmond. Fortunately, the tower was all but empty and, with his magic, the journey to the grounds beneath was not difficult. He hoped the Diamair had not left. It had been seven years, so it could be anywhere. Merlin swallowed and took a shaky breath. It could have died.

He found a torch and lit it, then began walking through the tunnels. It was eerie, being there. Images of Mordred, Morgana, Arthur and Gwaine and the others began running through his mind. That had been such a tumultuous time, and the true beginning of the end.

He walked for half an hour before he saw the light flickering off the walls, as if water was shimmering. Hadn’t Gwaine told him that was what he and Percival had seen before they discovered the Diamair? Merlin began walking faster.

Eventually, he turned a corner and there it was, looking into Merlin’s eyes, as if it had been expecting him. Of course, it had. It unsettled Merlin, “Hello,” he said, his voice shaking.

“Emrys. Come. Sit,” said the Diamair, walking to two large stones and sitting on one of them.

Merlin sat on the other. “Can you help me?” he asked, taking out the Cup of Life and fighting to control his nerves. He swallowed.

“Calm yourself, Emrys. In answer to your question, no, I cannot help young Osmond Pendragon in the way you would wish me to do so. His destiny and mine do not cross. The future must unfold without me.”

“No, please,” cried Merlin.

“I wish it were in my power to cure the young prince, Emrys, but it is not. l can, however, give _you_ the means to help the young prince.”

“Me?” Merlin asked, a bit overwhelmed, but he nodded. “Yeah, okay, I’m ready,” he said, attempting to sound strong and confident.

“You must take the Cup of Life to Avalon, Emrys. When the sun meets with the horizon as it makes its first appearance on the morrow, you must dip the Cup into the water and fill it. Then take it to the boy and give it to him. He must drink every drop within.”

Merlin nodded. That sounded simple enough.

“I must tell you, Emrys, this will not cure the boy, but his drinking the water will set in motion the events that will do so.”

“What? What do you mean?” Merlin asked.

“I have the unfortunate burden of all knowledge that ever was and ever will be, Emrys. I have seen the future. I know you, Emrys. I understand your hurts. I feel your fears. I realise how loyal you are. I am loyal to you, too, Emrys. You are the hope of so many in our world. We will do anything to help you. Do me the honour of believing what I say.”

Merlin wasn’t sure what he should say, but he knew he needed to trust in what he was being told. Did he have a choice? “I believe you. Thank you.”

“And I thank you, Emrys.”

With that the creature stood and left.

“You want to travel to Avalon again?” Kilgharrah asked when Merlin climbed onto his back.

“Yes,” Merlin said, feeling his palms beginning to perspire.

“But not to see Arthur this time?”

Merlin shook his head. “No. The Diamair told me to go.”

“Ah, the holder of all knowledge. How great its burdens must be.”

Indeed. “Is it truly the last of its kind?” Merlin asked.

“That it is, young warlock, just as you are the last of your kind.”

“Is it immortal?” Merlin then asked, curious as to what other creatures besides him would be living forever.

“No one knows for certain, but as the others before this one have died, it is improbable that this one would be immortal, but I do not presume to know the ways of the Diamair.”

When Merlin slid off the dragon’s back after telling him he would call when he was ready to go, Kilgharrah said, “Young warlock, from this moment forward, pay close attention to everything, for even in the small details lie the greatest futures.”

Merlin didn’t understand, but he nodded his thanks before he began walking towards the lake.

With the water at his feet and the moon his only light, Merlin sat. He had a few hours yet until sunrise. He set down his bag, wrapped his arms around his knees and looked out over the lake. It was much choppier than it had been the previous trip he had made. He struggled to keep his eyes open.

 

 

 

“No!” Merlin cried as he sat up and looked towards the lake in a panic. He had fallen asleep. He looked across the lake. He hadn’t missed first light, but he knew it had to be getting close. Breathing harshly, he retrieved the Cup of Life and studied it. Just as with the Horn of Cathbhadh, he was in awe of how many people before him must have held this very Cup and used it for good … or evil. The latter thought chilled him.

As the darkness began to give way to dawn, Merlin stood and walked the few steps to the edge of the water. A few minutes later, as the first rays of sun broke through the early morning clouds, he dipped the cup into the water and filled it.

He didn’t linger. He poured the contents of the Cup of Life into another container, sealed it and then he called for the dragon. They hardly spoke as they flew over the vast moors and cliffs, valleys and caves, back to Camelot.

When they landed, Merlin made his way to Gwen and Osmond’s chambers, trying to think of a way to get everyone to leave the room so he could administer the water. He briefly considered telling Gwen the truth, but he knew the time to do so had yet to arrive. Perhaps Gaius would have a plan. Merlin hoped so.

When he entered Osmond’s chamber, Gwen was seated on the bed, reading a book to her son, who appeared to be asleep, but Merlin knew the boy was awake; he had spent enough time with him to know just about everything there was to know about him. Merlin allowed a small grin. At any moment, those blue eyes would open and search the room for him. Merlin couldn’t explain it, but there had always been a bond—imaginary or real he hadn’t a clue—that existed between him and Osmond, and the thought of that bond being forever severed was what had Merlin furiously wiping at the tear that wanted to fall.

Confident he had quelled the urge to once again give into despair, he walked towards the bed and smiled when one of those beautiful blue eyes opened a crack and looked at him. Then the other eye opened and a small smile appeared. Relief flooded through Merlin. The night before, Osmond had seemed a breath away from death. He didn’t look any better this day, but, at least he was awake and grinning. Merlin returned the smile.

“Merlin,” called out the small, weak voice.

“Hey, Osmond. How are you feeling this morning?”

“Not too good, but Gaius says my fever has not risen overnight. Oh, and guess who came to see me after I woke up last night?”

 “Who?”

“Sir Percival, and guess what? His wife is going to have a baby!”

Merlin looked over at Gwen and saw her grinning, as was Gaius, who was off in a corner, writing. Merlin returned his attention to Osmond. “That is the best news! And did he bring you anything?” he asked, because Percival never came to see the little Pendragon without bringing him something.

“Yes!” and the small face lit up even more than it already had. “He gave me a small shield with the Pendragon crest on it. See there?” he said, pointing to the wall opposite. “He put it on the wall for me.”

Merlin turned his head and wondered, not for the first time, if Arthur had had the same love and support when he was growing up that his son garnered. “That is quite impressive, Osmond. I dare say in a few years you will have a full-sized one.” Gwen frowned and Merlin laughed briefly. “Can’t keep your little boy little forever, can we, Gwen?”

Gwen cracked a grin. “No, that we cannot, but let’s not rush anything, I am quite enjoying him as my little boy,” she said. She leant down and gave Osmond a kiss on the forehead. “I must go prepare to meet the delegation from Mercia, Osmond, but I shall come see you when we are finished. Love you.” Gwen then turned to Merlin. “Will you be here until I return?”

“Yes, Osmond and me have much to discuss, don’t we?”

Osmond grinned and nodded, but then he closed his eyes. “So sleepy.”

Gwen looked towards Gaius. “Perhaps I should stay.”

Gaius shook his head. “My Lady, he is weak and needs sleep. It is likely his temperature is rising, and that isn’t good, but I will be by his side whilst you are away.  If he gets worse I will alert you immediately.”

Once Gwen was gone, Merlin motioned Gaius to the other side of the room, took out the container of water and showed it to him. “The Diamair told me Osmond is to drink this water from the Cup of Life. The water is from Avalon. It won’t cure him, but it is the first step in doing so.”

Gaius frowned. “What is the next step?”

“I have no idea,” Merlin said.

“I hope you know what you are doing,” Gaius replied, worry etched on his face.

Merlin shook his head. “Not really, but I’m desperate. Maybe someone will show me the way. I don’t know. But what I do know is this is the best we’ve got for now. We have no choice, Gaius.”

“We alwa—“

“No, Gauis, we don’t have a choice,” Merlin said, authoritatively and defensively. “If we do nothing, Osmond will die. I know it. I can feel it. He can’t die, Gaius. I will not allow that to happen. His father died in my arms; I will not allow his son to die!”

“Very well, I trust you, Merlin. I always have,” Gaius replied, a stern look on his face.

Merlin wasn’t encouraged by Gaius’s show of faith in him; it seemed clear to him that the other’s words were more appeasement than belief, and it did absolutely nothing for his confidence. He returned to the bed and took a deep breath as he retrieved a goblet from the bedside table, then sat down beside Osmond, who appeared to be asleep. He then poured the water from the container into the goblet.

“Osmond? You need to drink this before you go to sleep,” Merlin said, softly.

Blue eyes opened halfway and Merlin carefully lifted Osmond’s head. “Drink every bit of this, okay?” The boy nodded, took the cup and drained the contents in seconds. Merlin let out a breath and smiled. “Good, was it?”

“That water did not come from Camelot; I wish our water tasted that good.”

Merlin placed the cup on the bedside table and stood. “I brought it especially for you.”

Osmond grinned and then promptly fell asleep **.**

 

 

His horse readied, the Cup of Life tucked safely away from prying eyes, Merlin left for the Isle of the Blessed. Osmond was no better than he had been three days earlier, when he drank the water from the Cup of Life, and Merlin was desperate. The Diamair had said the water would be the first step, but what was the second? Merlin had never been a patient man, although he liked to think he was getting better, and he was having a difficult time waiting for something else to happen. Thus, he had decided to take matters into his own hands. It mightn’t be what he was supposed to do, but he was not going to sit by and watch Osmond slip further and further away from him and everyone else without doing all he could.

He had no idea who the High Priestess was, but _the who_ mattered little. What mattered was that he needed her help. He needed her to cure Osmond, and if that cure meant Merlin had to trade his life, he would do so without a thought. As he had once told Lancelot when the other had said that he wasn’t sure if he could ever sacrifice himself for another, “ _You have to have a reason, something you care about that’s more important than anything.”  
_

In the distant past, Arthur had been Merlin’s reason, the something he had cared about more than anything.

Arthur gone, his son, Osmond, had become all of those things for Merlin.

He looked up at the sky and gave a curt nod. He was prepared for this. Yes, he was well aware that his life wasn't one for bargaining; his being immortal, at least according to his father, took care of that, but Merlin had to try. Perhaps his father had been wrong.  Merlin had never hoped for anything more than he hoped for this.

Several hours later, he jumped off his horse and it didn’t take him long after that to reach his destination. The last time he was there he had been in a hurry as well, but he remembered thinking how beautiful it was and how alive everyhing looked. He had wondered how long the Isle of the Blessed had existed and thought about all the other people who had been there before him. This time, none of that mattered. Far from seeming a place of beauty, or of fantasy, the dreary-looking place appeared a place of mourning. A last resort.

“Where are you?” Merlin yelled. “Let me see you. You know who I am and you know what I want!” He looked up and down, left and right. “SHOW YOURSELF!”

“Hello, Emrys. What brings you to the Isle of the Blessed this day?” A beautiful lady dressed in a white flowing gown, her long brunette hair bouncing up and down as she walked towards him, came out of the mist.

Merlin swallowed, but he forged on. “Osmond Pendragon, the young son of Arthur Pendragon, late king of Camelot, is dying and I need you to spare his life. I am willing to trade my life for his.” He briefly closed his eyes and prayed to whoever would listen that his plan would work. He felt a tear slip down his face, then another. He tried to stop them, but he knew there would be no relief for him. The emotions poured forth and the tears were so many that Merlin could barely see the lady in white.

“It is not your time to depart this world, Emrys.”

Merlin roughly wiped the tears, even as more fell. He had feared this response. “YOU CANNOT TELL ME WHEN IT IS MY TIME TO GO AND WHEN IT ISN’T. IT IS MY CHOICE!” he cried out.

“No, Emrys. It is not your choice. I am sorry, but I cannot grant you what you seek.”

“Help me!” Merlin cried out again.

“Return from whence you came, Emrys. Follow the path and that which you seek shall be revealed.”

Merlin opened his mouth to ask what that had meant, but then he shut it and turned around and began to walk away, disheartened. He made his way out of the horrid place, got onto his horse and began the long journey back to Camelot, feeling completely downtrodden. He had no idea what to do next. He rode for hours, his thoughts torturing him. “Arthur? I could really use your help about now,” he muttered. “What am I to do to save your son? He is dying and I don’t know what to do,” he cried out, the tears once again falling.

“Excuse me?” called out a voice.

“Huh?” Merlin looked behind him and saw no one, but when he turned back and looked in the direction he had been headed, he saw someone walking on the side of the road towards him. Merlin sighed and shook his head. The man no doubt thought he was a simpleton. “Oh, sorry, I was just thinking aloud,” he said.

“I am a physician,” the man replied. “My name is Osric. You mentioned that someone was dying?”

A physician? Merlin doubted that. The man looked nothing like a physician. He was overly thin, as if he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in weeks. His clothes looked as if they had never been cleaned. His long, stringy blond hair needed a good washing and his blue eyes were shifty and bulging, as if they were about to pop out of his head. He reminded Merlin very much of Cedric, the man who had been possessed by Cornelius Sigan. Merlin knew that he should continue on his way. “I’m Merlin. Where are you from?” he asked instead, unsure why he had done.

“From Odin’s kingdom. I have come to purchase rare herbs for my master.”

Merlin swallowed and felt let down. Already, the man had contradicted himself. “I thought you said you were a physician.”

“I am apprenticed to become one. I have been told I have a true talent for the art of healing. I am in my last year of the apprenticeship. If it is help you seek, perhaps I can be of assistance.”

If only that were true. Merlin wanted to believe the man, and the story was plausible, even if he did look too old to be anyone’s apprentice. Merlin narrowed his eyes. “Do you have a remedy to cure all ills?” he asked, just to see what Osric would say.

A perplexed expression overtook Osric’sface. “Excuse me? There is no such cure. I certainly wish there were, but to my knowledge, nothing of that sort has ever been found. I would be suspicious of anyone who claimed to have such a thing.”

The frown on Merlin’s face turned into the beginnings of a grin. Well, there was that. “What profession were you in previously?” Merlin asked, knowing there was no way the man hadn't done anything else prior to apprentecing to become a physician.

“I don't know. I have no memories of my life prior to six years ago. I woke up one morning, in Odin’s court, a sword pointed at me and several men surrounding me. I was very nearly sent to the cells, but the court physician stopped the guards and took me to his home. I have been there since.”

What a sad story, Merlin thought. What a sad life. To not remember your past. Osric had to be around his age. Perhaps older, but not by much. Merlin couldn’t imagine not remembering his past. Not remembering his mother. Will. Gaius. Arthur.

_Arthur._

Merlin studied the man in front of him … a man who had no memories of his life prior to six years earlier. Had no idea who he was or where he came from. Merlin shook his head as a completely mental idea entered his thoughts.

 _Could this man be Arthur?_  

But then Merlin shook his head and let out a small laugh.  What was he thinking?  No, there was no way this man could be Arthur. He looked nothing like him. The only thing the two had in common was the blue colour of their eyes. Merlin wished for this man to be Arthur so very badly because he had been told Arthur would one day return when the need was greatest, but his optimism and belief in the future he had hoped for had begun to founder over the past few days at the prospect of losing Osmond, thus he had begun to doubt the words of the great dragon. Even with magic, how could Arthur return? It seemed too good to be true, and no amount of wanting this stranger to be Arthur would make it so.

But … _“Pay close attention to everything, for even in the small details lie the greatest futures,”_ Kilgharrah had said, and this very day, hadn’t the High Priestess shared with him something he hadn’t understood? _“Return from whence you came, Emrys. Follow the path and that which you seek shall be revealed._ _”_

Merlin closed his eyes and willed away such thoughts. No. He shook his head and must have given his horse an inadvertent kick because it reared up and the bag that Merlin had secured behind him broke free, spilling its contents across the ground. Merlin slid down and gathered the contents, all the while trying to figure out what to do. Everything back in the bag, Merlin secured it onto his saddle and climbed back up. “I … must be on my way; I have a long journey ahead of me. Best of luck to you, Osric,” he said, but he couldn’t pull himself away.

“The same to you, Merlin,” said Osric.

Merlin urged his horse into a gallop, and it did so for several minutes, away from the man called Osric, but he had not gone far when he pulled up. It had been a mistake for him to let the man go.  Merlin felt himself beginning to shake. Hadn’t that Druid boy said something about Arthur coming back soon? Merlin turned his head around as if the strange man would still be standing there, waiting for him. “No,” he said, shaking his head.

“Arthur,” he then whispered as he turned his horse around. Soon the horse was galloping as fast as it ever had. Merlin had to find Osric.

Fortunately, fate was on Merlin’s side. And, a man on foot could only travel so far, compared to a galloping horse. He soon saw the man walking just as he had been earlier, on the side of the road. Merlin galloped up to him, but said nothing; instead, he stared at the item Osric held in his hand. Merlin brought a hand to his mouth, but said nothing.

If that wasn’t a sign …

Osric looked up when the horse came to a stop beside him. “I thought you might be returning for this. You must have missed it when you were putting everything back in your bag earlier,” said Osric, studying the ornately carved cup.

Merlin nodded. “Yeah,” he said, not quite knowing what else to say.

“Please let me come help you, Merlin. It is obvious you’ve been crying, and men do not cry without good reason. It is a girl-ish thing, to cry,” he added, chuckling. He handed Merlin the Cup of Life. It was clear that he had no idea what he had held in his hand.

There was no way Merlin was returning to Camelot without Osric. He mightn’t look at all like Arthur, and it could very well be that he wasn’t, but there were too many coincidences. Merlin was meant to take this man with him. “Very well, but I am in a hurry; you will have to ride with me. We shan’t make it back by nightfall, but if we make good time we can be there by mid-morning tomorrow.”

The two rode in silence for much of their ride. Merlin thought about asking what would happen when Osric didn’t show up with the herbs or whatever it was that he had been getting for his master, but he really didn’t care one way or the other.

They stopped for the night when it was too dark to see the road in front of them and made camp, but left at first light. They rode into Camelot as the bells were ringing. Merlin called out for Ian, but was off his horse and running towards the castle, Osric doing his best to keep up, before Ian could finish asking the question he had begun.

Gwen was seated on the bed, holding onto the small hand of her sleeping son. Merlin cleared his throat as he prepared to enter the room; he didn’t want to startle her. When she looked up and saw him, she gave him a small smile and motioned for him to enter. He did and Osric followed. “My Lady,” he said, “this is going to sound strange, but I think this man, Osric, can help Prince Osmond.”

“Wh—oh. Oh. Yes, please, do whatever you must” she said hesitantly. She seemed somewhat confused, but as she has been the one to suggest using magic, Merlin knew she would allow this. “I don’t want to leave him; whatever you do, you must do it with me in the room.”

Osric looked confusedly at Gwen. “My Lady, as his mother, if you did leave, I would be concerned. No matter that I could possibly cure your son, I am but a stranger to you. Who would leave their child alone with a stranger?”

Gwen looked at Merlin, who gave her an encouraging smile. “I trust him,” he whispered. Gwen nodded as she wiped away a tear.

Osric began examining the boy and did several diagnostics before turning to Gwen. “This child needs blood. His is bad. If he doesn’t receive new blood, I do—“

Neither Gwen nor Osric noticed that Merlin’s eyes widened.

“Shhh,” Gwen said as she raised her hand to halt Osric’s words. She looked sharply at him, then at her son. She motioned towards the door. “Merlin, don’t leave Osmond’s side,” she instructed.

Merlin watched as Gwen and Osric walked out of the room, feeling his entire body turn cold. Blood. Osmond needed blood. Merlin let out a small cry. What the Druid boy said had been true.

But just because the Druids had said it didn’t make it true.  Merlin knew that, but he had no doubt that what they had said was the truth. Just as he knew Osric was Arthur. He stood beside the bed and watched Osmond sleep and allowed a tear to fall. He wiped it away and tried to smile.

 

 

He should have never doubted Kilgharrah.

The door to Osmond’s chamber opened. Merlin turned towards it and waited. Gwen walked in, followed by Osric. She took a deep breath and looked at her sleeping son. She then looked at Merlin, closed her eyes and shook her head.

Merlin didn’t understand and opened his mouth to ask what happened, but he shut it when Osric began to speak.

“Merlin, I thank you for bringing me to examine the boy.  I crave experiences where I can learn, and this has been just such an experience. Now I shall take my leave and return to my home. I do wish all of you well. My Lady,” he said as he bowed, then he left **.**

 

 

As Merlin watched Osric leave, a weight settled upon his shoulders. It was such an overwhelming, sad feeling. He swallowed and took a shaky breath. Gwen sat on the bed beside her son and looked down at him.

Several minutes passed before she spoke. “I do not doubt what he said, Merlin, and I thank you for bringing him. He told me that he doesn’t know if anything can be done for Osmond, but he also told me that he has heard that blood from the ill person’s father can possibly cure those who seem to be afflicted as Osmond is. I began to cry and told him Osmond’s father was dead. He then seemed upset and asked me if by chance Osmond was the son of King Arthur. When I didn’t respond, he apologised and said he didn’t mean to cause me further grief. I had so hoped for him to give me hope, Merlin, but when he said he didn’t have any other remedies, magical or otherwise, I thought it best to send him on his way. At least we now know what could possibly cure Osmond, even if such a cure is impossible,” Gwen said, shaking her head, her tears beginning to fall one after the other.

“He can’t die, Gwen. He can’t. I won’t let him,” Merlin said, stoically, his emotions surprisingly under control. “I won’t let him die.” He shook his head. Osmond Pendragon would not die. Merlin would do anything to save him.

“But what can we do, Merlin?” Gwen asked as she straightened the sheets around her son and moved the fringe from his forehead.

Merlin cleared his throat and was about to speak when the door opened. Gaius entered the room.

“Who was that man I passed? I thought I saw him leaving these chambers,” Gaius said, looking at Merlin, as if he knew it was Merlin’s doing that the stranger had been there.

“I brought him here, to see if he could cure Osmond,” Merlin said, defiantly, tears threatening to fall.  He wiped his eyes with the palms of his hands and turned his attention to Osmond. He didn’t want to see the look in Gaius’s eyes. The disappointment would be more than he would be able to take.

“Oh, Merlin,” was Gaius’s response.

Merlin mightn’t have been able to _see_ the disappointment on Gaius’s face, but he certainly heard it. “Gaius, I—” he said, but Gaius cut him off.

“Osmond demands my attention at the moment, Merlin, but after I finish here, I will expect an explanation as to why you would bring a stranger to the bedside of the prince,” Gaius said as he neared the bed and stood beside Merlin, who finally turned his head so the frowning physician could see his eyes.

For years, Gaius had trusted his young apprentice to treat patients. It was likely that trust had just been irreparably broken. Such knowledge was devastating to Merlin, but he had done what had to be done. “I need to go,” he said, unable to stay and see and hear how disappointed Gaius was in him. He leant over, kissed Osmond and then left the chambers and castle. He needed to get away and collect himself, and he needed to decide what his next move should be.

He went out into the forest and called for Kilgharrah.

“Oh, young warlock, you have made a mess of things.”

What? Merlin shook his head. This was not what he had expected to hear. “But he is Arthur, is he not?”

“Whether he is or is not will be revealed in good time, Merlin. Do not presume that you know when that time is.”

“I couldn’t let him go. Don’t you see? He can cure Osmond.”

“But at what cost? Camelot is not yet ready to accept magic, Merlin. This is dangerous. When the time has come for what is to be—and I did tell you that there would be a time for that to happen—all will be revealed and righted, young warlock, but you must allow these events to unfold as they will. Guinevere is the one who is considering using magic. Allow her to make the decision.”

“But then why was he—Osric—revealed to me? Can you please just tell me that?”

“It is simple, Merlin. You needed to have something to hold on to.”

Merlin threw his hands up in the air. He had been sure this was part of _his_ destiny. He hadn’t asked for it, but he was determined to see it through. He was in too deep to sit by and allow things to happen without him.“So I wait. And let Gwen go to him. Or not. Maybe he will return on his own? But I’m to do nothing? Just nothing? Osmond is dying and you expect me to sit by and do nothing?” Merlin asked, his voice rising and his anger bubbling at the surface.

“For now, you have done what must be done, young warlock. Now you must wait,” said Kilgharrah. “It is the way it must be,” he added when Merlin opened his mouth, and with that, the dragon took off and was gone in the blink of an eye.

Merlin watched him go and thought about what he should do.

No matter that Kilgharrah had told him to wait, there was no way Merlin could do that. He would go to the Crystal Cave and find out what the future held. The thought chilled him, but there was also a part of him that wanted to return to the cave, and that frightened him more. He knew the lure of the cave.

His decision made, an exhausted Merlin returned to his room. Sleep evaded him, so he lay in his bed, eating grapes and slices of cheese as his mind replayed the events of the day. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep.

 

 

 

When he left his room the following morning, feeling well rested and ready for the day ahead, Gaius was seated at the table, staring at him, waiting for an explanation. Merlin swallowed and walked down the steps.

“Well?” Gaius said, his chin resting on his hands. “What do you have to say?”

“It’s Arthur, Gaius,” Merlin said, and he dared not smile. This was no laughing matter. He kept eye-contact with Gaius and waited.

“And your proof?” Gaius asked as he stood from the table and walked to where Merlin stood.

Merlin raised a finger. “One, I met him on my return trip from the Isle of the Blessed, where I had been told to pay attention to that which I passed on the way back.” He then raised another. “Two, I asked him what he did before he was apprenticing to be a physician and he said he had no memories of his life prior to six years ago.” He then raised a third. “Three, when he saw Osmond, he said the boy needed a blood infusion from his father, just as the Druid boys said,” Merlin answered, then again waited.

Gaius looked skeptical. “Merlin, those reasons prove nothing.  Yes, I recall you telling me about what the Druid boy said about Arthur returning soon, but I do not put much faith in what the Druids have to say these days.  As much as I would welcome the news that Arthur has returned, someone is likely playing a cruel joke on you,” he said. “Now wait, I am not saying this person is not Arthur, he very well could be,” he added when it was obvious Merlin was about to interject, “but it doesn’t seem likely. I wish it were true, I really do.”

“But it is true, Gaius,” Merlin said, his face and voice more animated than usual, if that were possible. “I can feel it. We haven’t a moment to waste. Osmond is dying. We must find Osric. We must find Arthur.” The consoling look on Gaius’s face told Merlin that Gaius did not believe him. “I know it’s true.”

“I am sorry, Merlin, but I cannot share your belief at this time. There is nothing other than coincidences connecting that man and Arthur. And Osmond is not leaving us imminently. His condition has stabilized over the past twenty-four hours, which is quite extraordinary.”

Merlin grinned and let out a small laugh. “Don’t you see, Gaius? It was Arthur. He couldn’t cure his son, but he did something to him. I know he did! I went to Kilgharrah and he told me it wasn’t time for any revelations, but I got the idea that it wouldn’t be too long. I need to know what happens, Gaius. I need to know,” he repeated.” And again, he waited for what Gaius would say next.

Gaius sighed and looked towards the window. “You will do what you need to do, Merlin. I long ago resigned myself to that. All I can ask is that you be careful. I fear that you are becoming too dependent on others. You have it within yourself to find the answers. I wish you understood that, my boy.”

“Don’t you see, Gaius? This is all down to me. If I mess up, Osmond dies, Arthur is persecuted by his own people, and I … still won’t die,” Merlin finished more calmly, realising that he had been practically shouting.

“I wish I knew what to tell you, Merlin, but what I do know is that I am not against you in this. We both want Osmond to get better,” Gaius said, his reproachful tone gone, replaced by one of sadness. “You can shout and be angry and wish for this to all be different, but we cannot change what is happening. I wish we could, but we cannot.”

“But you’re wrong, Gaius. Osric can cure Osmond. I just don’t know how that is going to happen, so I need to see what the future holds.” Merlin was about to say more, but he felt his chin beginning to quiver, so he decided he had said enough. He would not let the tears fall. Gaius needed to see that he was serious. Merlin shook his head. It was like he was seventeen again and trying to make his mother understand that he could keep his secret from everyone in Ealdor.

“Do what you must, Merlin, but see that you come back to us,” Gaius said as he placed his hands on Merlin’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “No matter what you think or have been told, none of us knows our futures for certain. It would be a sad day for us all if you didn’t return, and my heart would not be able to survive your loss.”

 

 

The next day Merlin went to the cave and headed directly for the wall of crystals he had been attracted to the previous time he had been there. He neared it, touched a crystal and it was as if he had struck a light.

Not an image, but the high priestess spoke _:_

_“Emrys, the nobility of Camelot have not accepted magic for thirty-seven years. They have executed our kind for no good reason. Why should we allow one of our own to return to you when the people you serve would have him killed for what he has become? You had an opportunity several years back to right this wrong, yet you feared for a life and thought by rejecting magic you were doing good, but it ended badly. It is now time for you to right that wrong. You must convince the queen of Camelot to reinstate magic. That is the only way.”_

A bright light then caught Merlin’s attention and another crystal lit up, showing its future:

_Gaius and Merlin were walking on either side of a third person, whose face was hidden by a hood. They entered the castle. The hood fell and revealed Osric, who was carrying a phial of what looked to be blood._

The image ended and another began:

 _Osric stood over Osmond’s bed, the boy sitting up and smiling_. _The phial in_ _Osric’s hand was empty_. The crystal went dark.

Another flash of light lit up the area:

 _Osmond as a man was crowned king of Camelot. Osric was in the front row standing beside Merlin._  

A soft voice then spoke:

_“Only when it is safe for Arthur Pendragon to reveal himself, will he do so. Many years will pass before that happens, but one day, the two of you, Emrys and Arthur, will unite Albion.”_

Merlin couldn’t get back to Camelot fast enough. He had an idea that he had to find Osric as soon as possible.

As he approached Camelot, he sighted a commotion at the gate. He got off his horse, led it to where everyone stood and pushed through the crowd.

Osric was lying on the ground and appeared to be unconscious. Everyone was standing around, staring and doing nothing. “Move out of the way,” Merlin said, authoritatively. “Make way so I can get him onto the horse and take him to the physician.” The people recognised him and moved out of the way.

When Merlin entered Gaius’s chambers, the wizened face lost its colour. Merlin nodded curtly. “As I was returning, I saw a crowd around the gate. Osric was lying on the ground. No one could tell me what had happened.”

After a rather lengthy examination, Gaius looked to Merlin and frowned. “Someone has performed magic on him. I can’t discern what exactly has been done; I will need to run more thorough diagnostics, but he is weak. What is extraordinary is that he should be dead with the levels of magic running through his body. He isn’t.”

“Because he is Arthur,” Merlin said, and he grinned one of his goofy grins. He had been right. Not that he would ever say so or gloat about it; that wasn’t who he was or how he did things, but … he had been right.  The crystal had validated his thoughts regarding Osric.

Gaius looked at Osric, then at Merlin and shook his head. “I haven’t yet changed my thoughts regarding this being Arthur, but I must admit that this has me questioning what is going on. If you are correct and this is indeed Arthur, Merlin, then I fear the kingdom is about to be put under more upheaval. There is no possibility that Camelot will accept him as their king again, not with magic. It is preposterous to think otherwise.”

“I know,” Merlin said, “but for now I’m not worried about how the people will or will not accept Arthur in his new state. I’m worried about Osmond. Will you help me get Osric in there to cure him?”

“Merlin, Osric is in no condition to cure Osmond today,” Gaius said, looking at Merlin as if he had lost his mind.

“But he has to, Gaius. Now. There is not a moment to lose.”

“Osmond is not in imminent danger of dying.” Gaius replied, covering up the sleeping Osric. “Unless you can tell me that you saw in one of the crystals that today has to be the day, I am going to put my foot down and say this will wait until tomorrow. I have a feeling by then that Osric will be much improved,“ Gaius said, defiantly. “I am in need of water, Merlin. go fetch me some.”

Merlin took the bucket and sulked on his way outside. They were so very close and Merlin had never been patient, but he had to agree that Osric didn’t appear able to do anything in the state he was in.

After he fetched the water and took it to Gaius, he decided to go see Osmond. For the past three days, the young prince had been sleeping the whole of the time Merlin sat by his side and the helplessness he had felt had shrouded him. It had been a week since Osmond had drunk from the Cup of Life, but as of yet, there had been no improvement. It was true, the boy was not getting any worse, but if Osmond were any worse, he would surely be dead. But at least he was still alive. As long as he was alive, Merlin knew there was hope. Perhaps today would be the day Osmond woke and called out his name. That is what Merlin wanted to hear more than anything.

As he was about to walk up the stairs, he heard a small voice call out his name. It sounded so very much like Osmond’s, but Merlin knew it to be Owen’s. He swallowed and turned around to face Osmond’s best friend. What was Merlin to say to him?

“Is Osmond going to die, Merlin?” Owen asked, his green eyes searching Merlin's face, his little voice shaking and his tiny hands balled up into fists at his side.

Merlin had no clue what to say, and, fortunately, he didn’t have to say anything, because Sir Leon chose that exact moment to walk in and join his son. He looked up at Merlin—who was ever so grateful for the knight’s timely entrance—before turning his attention towards his son. Merlin took a deep breath and watched as Sir Leon knelt in front of Owen and put his hands on his son’s shoulders. Merlin felt the tears beginning to fall and didn’t attempt to stop them.

“Owen, we do not know if Osmond will live, but we must all continue to have hope that he will get better.” Then he took the boy in his arms and rocked him. Merlin could hear the heartfelt sobs of the recently turned seven-year-old and it was perhaps the saddest thing he had ever witnessed. As sad and difficult as it had been to watch Arthur die, Arthur had been an adult, as had Merlin. There were things that adults were more able to cope with. Death was among them. No seven-year-old should have to face the loss of their best friend, who was six.

 

 

 

Early the following morning, Merlin woke to voices in Gaius’s workroom. Once he was dressed, he went out and found Gaius and Osric talking as they ate breakfast. Just as Gaius had said he would, Osric looked as if nothing had been wrong with him the night before. He grinned at something Gaius said, and Merlin studied the person who he knew to be Arthur, wondering how he had taken the form of this man. But, really, the _how_ mattered little. Merlin didn’t care. All he cared about was that Arthur was back and could save his son.

Merlin walked over to the table and sat down beside Gaius. “How are you feeling?” he asked as he looked at Osric, knowing, without an ounce of doubt, that this was indeed Arthur. He had seen that Osmond would one day be king, and the only way that would be possible was if Osric was Arthur and had cured his son.

“Like new,” Osric said, but Merlin’s attention had shifted to a small phial beside Osric’s plate. The crystal had shown him a phial, and Gaius hadn’t known about that. Merlin’s breathing sped up.

“Ah, yes, you see the phial,” Osric said, and he gave a brief laugh. “Gaius said he had to remove this from me last night. It seems a sorcerer got to me and infused me with a powerful magic that would have slowly killed me. Gaius figured out how to remove the magic, but it would only exit my body through my blood. He thinks we can infuse this blood into Osmond; his body could certainly use the magic to help build him up. It won’t save his life, but it will perhaps help him for a time. Gaius says you have developed a method of inserting blood. He said it was too complicated to explain to me how you do it, but he said you are a wonder to watch.”

Merlin let out a brief nervous laugh, but covered it with a cough. “Did he, now?” he said through his teeth as he looked at Gaius. “It is early, but the sooner we do this the sooner Osmond can get better.”

Gaius nodded. “Yes, perhaps you are right, but I need to speak to you, Merlin, before we leave.” He stood and motioned towards Merlin’s room, where they went and shut the door. “We won’t have much time, Merlin, and it isn’t going to be easy getting Gwen to leave her son’s side. To do so, I will tell her I require her counsel on a matter of urgency, which, fortunately, is true since there seems to be a sweating sickness epidemic sweeping through the nearby villages. Once we take our leave, you and Osric will need to act quickly. As you know, I told him you will insert the blood. You will, of course, have to somehow render him unconscious for the time you do the blood transfer into Osmond's body; Osric cannot find out that you have magic.”

“Not a problem,” Merlin said as he mentally went through a myriad of enchantments that would do the job. “Let’s go. We have a child to save.”

 

 

An hour later, Osmond sat in his bed, grinning as his mother and Gaius returned. Gwen looked at Merlin, then at Osric as she walked over to Merlin and hugged him. “Thank you, Merlin.” She was crying.

“Don’t thank me. I didn’t do anything,” he said, but his breathing told a different story. It was hard for him to catch his breath; he had been so frightened the procedure wouldn’t work. When he had realised it had, he had forced himself not to cry. He had had to be watchful in case anything bad happened as a result of the blood transfer. The immediacy of the situation over, however, and the adrenaline rush no longer as prevalent, the magnitude of what had just happened began to dawn on him and it really was more than he could take, but he did his best to hold it all together. He looked around him and then looked back at Osmond. “He’s okay, Arthur,” he whispered, and a small smile found its way to his face.

“Mother,” Osmond said as Gwen sat on the edge of his bed. “I had the strangest dream that a dragon came to me and told me to close my eyes and that when I opened them I would be all better.”

Caressing her son’s cheeks, Gwen leant down and kissed him on the forehead. “I love you so very much, my little Pendragon.”

“I love you, too, Mother.” Osmond sat up and hugged his mother and looked over her shoulder at Merlin. “I love you, too, Merlin,” he said, not much more than a whisper, but it was loud enough for Merlin.

“Love you, too, Osmond,” and Merlin basked in the light of Osmond’s eyes.

“Not as much as I love you,” replied the small boy with the biggest smile Merlin had ever seen.

Osmond then looked over at Osric, who was watching the proceedings with an awed expression. “You were in my dream. What is your name?” he asked.

Osric looked at Merlin, who could barely contain his emotion at the realisation that Arthur was really there … so very near. Upon receiving a nod, Osric approached the child he had just cured, even if he wasn’t privy to that information. “My name is Osric, Sire, and I am pleased to meet you.” He inclined his head.

“I am pleased to meet you, as well. Are you a friend of Merlin’s?” Osmond asked, looking at Merlin and motioning for him to join them.

Merlin sat on the edge of Osmond’s bed and was surprised when Osmond threw back the covers, crawled over to him and threw himself into his arms. Merlin held the boy to him and stood, rocking him when he heard the child begin to cry. It was unexpected, this reaction, but, then again, Osmond had been near death and as young as he was, even he had to understand that he had very nearly not made it. Such would certainly have scared a six-year-old Merlin. “Sssh, my little one. It’s okay. You’re going to be fine now. Yes, Osric is a friend of mine and I think, if it is okay with him, we would very much like for him to remain in Camelot.” Merlin looked at Osric and smiled at him, hoping with everything he had that Osric would accept his invitation. Merlin kissed Osmond on the head and grinned as the prince looked up at him and grinned.

Osmond pulled back and smiled at his mother as Merlin wiped his tears with his neck-kerchief. “Mother, the dragon told me this man needs us.”

Gwen looked at Merlin, then back at Osmond. “We shall have a grand feast tomorrow evening to celebrate your recovery, Osmond, and of course we will want Osric to attend.” Again, Gwen looked at Merlin, as if asking what he thought.

“And he can help us prepare for the tourney, Merlin!” Osmond said, his voice still weak, but perhaps the sweetest sound Merlin had ever heard.

Merlin glanced at Gwen, then back at Osmond. A few months earlier he had dreaded the upcoming tourney, but now he looked forward to it. It was amazing how much could change in a few months. “That he could, Osmond, and, speaking of the tourney, now that you seem to be getting better, we need to have your final fittings and get your voiders and hauberk measurements put to rights.” This, as expected, resulted in the little boy’s grin taking over his face, and Merlin couldn’t contain his joy at seeing Osmond so happy.  “Your tooth is growing in nicely,” he then said, his own grin finally reaching his eyes. Osmond had come so far in the months since he had lost that tooth. On that Tuesday night in July he had been a fatherless child with a terminal illness that was kept at bay by magic. Now, early autumn (at least it felt as if it were already autumn) found the little prince hopefully on the mend, and his father was standing less than a yard from him.

All was well.

 

 

“What has you in such a mood this afternoon?” Gaius asked as he sat down at the table across from Merlin. “It can’t be Osmond. He continues to gain strength with each passing day, and Osric will be staying on in Camelot. Are you still upset with me over Sir Donovon?”

Merlin shook his head. “No. You were right to dissuade me from using magic to heal him. It doesn’t make it any easier, especially when I see his son looking so sad, but had I done what I was about to do when you stopped me, my future could have very well ended then and there.” Merlin shrugged his shoulders. He hated this being responsible with his magic bit that Gaius had been drilling in his head for the past ten years.

Gaius laid a hand atop Merlin’s and let out a sigh. “I never said your life would be an easy one, did I? As a warlock, Merlin, you will face many trials in your life where you will have to make a choice between what is right and what is fair, and I am afraid they won’t get any easier, my boy. I realise that it was hard for you to not act, but your acquiescence to my concerns proved to me that you have matured. I am proud of you.” Gaius removed his hand from Merlin’s. “Now eat up.”

Merlin looked at his food then turned his head towards the window, pensive about so many things. Sir Donovan's death weighed heavily on him, but that wasn't the only reason he was currently _sulking_ as Gaius called it. Osric had made a comment three days earlier about how surprised he was that Osmond seemed to be doing so well.  Merlin had a really bad feeling that sooner or later Osric would discover the truth and that he would be furious with Merlin for keeping everything from him. Then there was Gwen. “Gwen asked me to have dinner with her this evening,” he said, frowning as he returned his attention to Gaius and clasped his fingers together and let out a breath. “I think she means to talk to me about what happened when Osmond was cured.”

“Ah, I see. And what will you tell her if she asks?” Gaius asked.

“The truth,” Merlin answered before taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out.

Gaius looked surprised. “How much of the truth?”

“Don’t know. I guess I’ll decide when the time comes.  I have to tell her something, Gaius.”

“So then why the long face? If you have already made up your mind, you—” Gaius began.

“Because this will be a defining moment, Gaius,” Merlin interrupted. “The moment I have waited over seventeen years for. What Gwen decides tonight will affect my future. Whether Camelot will ever get its former king back will be decided.”

Gaius chuckled. “You need not be so overly dramatic and you need not look so worried, Merlin. I have every confidence that whatever Gwen says tonight will be in your favour.” He reached over and again covered Merlin’s hands with his own. Then he smiled and nodded. “Trust in yourself, Merlin, and trust in Gwen.”

“Thanks,” Merlin said hesitantly, and he smiled briefly, but the frown was soon back. He had the strangest feeling that Gaius knew something that he wasn’t sharing.  He very nearly said as much, but as he heard children yelling outside, he remembered he had somewhere else he needed to be. “I’ve got to go. I forgot that I have a meeting with a certain little boy, his best friend and a knight,” Merlin said, a grin on his face. “Gwen asked me to be there when Sir Leon brings Owen to see Osmond.” Merlin grabbed an apple and was out the door before Gaius could get a word in.

When Merlin entered Osmond’s chamber, it was empty. He frowned. He was certain he had the time right. But then he saw a piece of parchment on Osmond’s bed. He walked over, picked it up and smiled. They were at the stables. He should have known.

Several minutes later, when he walked into the stables, two little boys ran up to him, grabbed his legs and called his name. Merlin wasn’t sure if his grin could get any bigger. “Osmond, Owen, what are the two of you getting up to this afternoon? I hope you’re not being a bother for Ian,” he said as he looked over at the stable-hand. Ian shook his head before going back to whatever it was he had been doing.

“Owen and I have to wait a month, but then we can go ride our horses, Merlin!” said Osmond as he walked back to his horse, climbed up onto a stool and began brushing the mane. “Will you ride with us?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” said Merlin, and he ruffled Owen’s hair before he walked to where Gwen and Percival stood. He turned back to see that Owen had joined Osmond, and the boys were giggling.  It was a sight and sound that not so many days earlier Merlin had feared he would never see nor hear again. “He looks really good, Gwen. I can see improvement with each passing day,” Merlin said as he turned back to face her and Percival.

Gwen smiled as she looked over at her son. “He’s finally beginning to gain weight and is eating just as he was before, but he’s still not sleeping well at night; he woke early this morning, crying, asking for his daddy, and I couldn’t calm him. Gaius says with time he should begin sleeping normally again. Merlin, have you noticed that he doesn’t like to be apart from you? It seems if I step too far away he is afraid I’m going to leave him.”

Merlin nodded. “Yeah, I have noticed, but if he wants me to stay close, then I’m going to stay close. I almost lost him, Gwen. I know he’s okay now, but I’ve never been so scared as when I thought he might leave us. If he wants to be reassured that we aren’t going anywhere, I say we reassure him,” Merlin said, then he let out a small gasp, ashamed at how forthright he was being. Even though he had always been given free rein as to how he treated and disciplined Osmond and what he told the boy, it was different when he was around Gwen and the others, and Merlin knew he would do well to remember that. Here he was talking to the queen and a knight as if he were the one in charge of Osmond. “Erm, I’m sorry, My Lady, I don’t know where that came from,” he then said, feeling foolish. He needed to learn to keep his feelings to himself. Yes, Osmond meant everything to him and he couldn’t imagine losing him, but he was not the boy’s parent.

“Merlin,” Gwen said, giving him that familiar look again that was so very reminiscent of Arthur, “since when did you call me My Lady in front of Percival, and since when did you need permission to tell me what you think best for Osmond? Don’t you get it? You are as good as a father to him. I know you aren’t, but to Osmond, you are. You always have been.” Gwen then smiled and walked the few steps to Merlin and took his hands in her own. “Thank you, Merlin. You will never know how much you mean to me and Osmond,” she said as she gave his hands a slight squeeze before releasing them. “Now,” Gwen then said, her voice ratcheting up a few levels, “I know two little boys who need to go eat dinner before they go to Sir Percival’s for the evening.  Your father,” said Gwen as she smiled at Owen, “had to go meet the patrol on duty this evening, so you are to come with Osmond and me.” As expected, Osmond and Owen immediately ran up to Gwen. Merlin grinned as he looked over at Percival, who was beaming with pride.

It was funny how the knight who had always been rather solitary and private and had been all about his body and keeping fit had ended up being so good with children. Osmond and Owen thought he was the best thing ever, and Merlin was glad of it. It was good for them and him. Nothing better to prepare one for parenthood than having two young ones underfoot. Merlin had no doubt that Percival would make a wonderful father.

A few minutes later, Gwen left, taking the seven and six-year-old with her. Merlin took the opportunity to go into the stall across from Gareth’s, where Arthur’s horse was eating. The horse had been given another rider years ago, but, to Merlin, it would forever be Arthur’s. “Hey, boy, how are you?” he asked as he ran his hand down the beautiful mane, trying to keep the emotions at bay. It had been seven years, but there would never be a time when Merlin would get over Arthur’s loss. Never.

“I miss them,” said Percival, walking to the other side of the horse and reaching out to let the horse nuzzle him.

“Yeah, I thought it would get easier after seven years,” Merlin said as he glanced at Percival, “but all I have to do is look at Osmond to see what a huge loss we suffered. Arthur and Gwaine would have loved that little boy so much, Percival. And Owen. And the child that you and your wife are to have.”

“Yeah. Er, Merlin, I owe you an apology,” said Percival as he walked over to the side of the stall and sat down. He looked at Merlin and shrugged his shoulders. “I guess you have noticed that I’ve been avoiding you for the past … seven years or so?” he finished meekly, which was not at all the Sir Percival who most people knew.  It was clear he was more than a little uncomfortable as he looked at Merlin, not looking at all surly as he tried to do when out on patrol.

“Yeah, I have, but I figured you had your reasons, and it isn't as if we don't talk. You talk to me about Osmond,” said Merlin, shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah, well, Osmond always came first—still does, for that matter—with all of us, Merlin. His needs always trump our feelings. And yes, you’re right, I had my reasons for not wanting to talk to you, but they weren’t good ones. They were selfish reasons. I was ashamed.”

“Of what?” Merlin asked, not understanding. Why would Percival be ashamed?

“After Gwaine died, I fell apart. I can’t explain it. I don’t know, but I couldn’t face it. I felt like running away that very moment. Then I found you and discovered that Arthur hadn’t survived. I’ve not ever felt as lost as I did that day, sitting with you, both of us so bereft and alone that we didn’t know what to do next. The memories of that day will forever haunt me. I wanted so badly to help you. You were so distraught and there was nothing I could do. But as upset as you were, you talked to me about Gwaine. I know you probably don’t remember. Gaius has told me you have very little memory of that day after Arthur, well, after he died. But I remember it all as if it happened yesterday. You told me it wasn’t my fault what happened to Gwaine. You told me that sometimes things just happened. You were such a good friend to me that day, Merlin. I remember sitting beside you as you laid your head on the ground and cried. I didn’t know what to do. I should have done something, said something, but all I did was sit there. I wasn’t a very good friend.”

Merlin set down the brush and went to sit beside Percival. “All you did was sit there?” Merlin shook his head as he looked outside and watched the people walking into and out of the castle. “Percival, you did so much more than that. Gaius told me you sat with me for more than a day after we got back to Camelot. I didn’t say a word, but you never left my side. That is what a friend does.”

“I’m sorry I left Camelot while you were gone to Ealdor. I just couldn’t stay and face everything. I know I was a coward, Merlin. It was wrong of me. I know I let down everyone, especially Leon and you.”

Merlin shook his head and looked at Percival. It was true. He had felt let down. “But you came back.”

 

 

Two hours later, Osmond safely at Sir Percival and his wife’s house for the evening, Merlin and Gwen sat down to eat in her chambers.

“Please, eat, Merlin. There is an overabundance of food here,” she said with a smile on her face as she picked up a grape and ate it.

Merlin, who had been ravenous when he sat down, ate a few grapes and half a tomato, but found he was no longer hungry. He forced himself to eat a few more grapes, but then he gave up and pushed his plate away and looked at Gwen. He took a deep breath. He was scared. There was no other word to describe the feeling.

Gwen reached over and covered Merlin’s hands with her own. “It is okay, Merlin. I did tell you I was considering using magic to heal my son, did I not? If Osric is a sorcerer, I am fine with that.” And the genuine smile on her face paid proof to such statement.

“Really?” Merlin asked, relief and a bit of sorrow evident in his voice. He had been prepared to answer her honestly that he was a sorcerer. He wanted to tell her, but she had given him an out. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt he had to take it.

“Really, Merlin. Regardless of what I have said in the past, this episode has made me see that magic can be used for good. I already knew that—how could I not when it saved me from killing my husband—but seeing that my son was cured using magic helped me to see magic being used for good once again, which, I guess I needed to see. Merlin, _your friend,”_ and was it Merlin’s imagination or had Gwen put more emphasis on _your friend_ , than there needed to be? “need not worry that I will have him put to death. That will not happen. I can assure you of that.”

“Thank you, Gwen. Osric has gone to buy back his freedom from his master and will return to Camelot within the week. Gaius has agreed to take him on as an Apprentice. Osric will do a far better job than I ever did.” Merlin allowed a small laugh. The people of Camelot would be happy when they found out that a proper apprentice would at long last be working with Gaius.

“You have done a fine job, Merlin,” Gwen said, a smile on her lips. “In fact, I think we all owe you a debt we shall never be able to repay. And I meant what I said earlier this evening about Osmond. You never need worry about me being upset with any decisions you make regarding him. I know you have his best interest at heart, as do I. Thank you … for everything,” she added. “Your place within Camelot’s walls is secure, and it always will be, Merlin. _Always_ ,” she repeated.

“Thank you, Gwen,” Merlin said, a question on his tongue, but he dared not ask, because it was not his question to ask. “If it's alright with you, I think I’d like to take on a more responsible role in Osmond’s training, Now that he appears to be cured, it seems to me that there is so much to teach and show him. Gaius told me not to waste a moment of our time together, because one day Osmond will grow into a young man who won’t want to have me around so much.”

“He’ll always want you around, Merlin, but, yes, I agree with Gaius that you should spend as much time with Osmond as you can. My son will like that very much, and I also know that Osric will be a great addition to Camelot. I look forward to getting to know him.”

“As do I,” and Merlin allowed a small smile, but inside he was a bundle of nerves. There was so much that could go wrong where Osric was concerned. Merlin wanted so very badly to tell Gwen who Osric really was, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Would the time ever be right?

“What has you looking so downtrodden?” Gwen asked. She stood, walked to the window and stood there for a minute, looking out. She then turned and motioned for him to join her. When Merlin was standing beside her, she pointed outside, at a group of young people. “Do you see that boy in the purple tunic? The one carrying the torch?”

 

 

“Yeah,” Merlin replied, sadness in his voice. The boy was the oldest son of Sir Donovon, the knight who had died in the horrific training accident that had occurred four days earlier. Merlin and Gaius had tried valiantly to save his life and Merlin had very nearly performed magic on him, but Gaius had pleaded with him not to, saying that the knight’s accident had been witnessed by too many people and that no one expected him to live, and that if he recovered suddenly, there would be questions.

“I wish we could’ve saved him, Gwen. No child should be fatherless.” Merlin opened his eyes as wide as he could to stave off the tears. When he had first met the young George Donovon, the boy had been six, the same age Osmond was now, and he had loved his father so very much; the two of them often took walks through the citadel before dusk fell each evening and would stop and talk to Merlin whenever they saw him. To know that the boy’s father was no longer alive upset Merlin more than he could say. Merlin hadn't grown up with a father and had lost him soon after meeting him. Osmond had never known his father.  Now George was fatherless. It was so very unfair. Merlin didn’t dare turn to look at Gwen.

“You’re right, no child should be fatherless,” Gwen replied, then she sighed and shook her head. “But I wasn’t a child when my father took ill, Merlin,” she added.

From the corner of his eye, Merlin could see Gwen looking at him and she had tears running down her cheeks. He swallowed. “No. You weren’t."

 

 

 

“Well done, you,” Merlin said as he grinned from ear to ear as Osmond picked up the hare he had just killed.

“I can’t wait to show Owen, his father, Sir Percival and Osric Osric said he wants to use the organs for a spirament.”

Merlin grinned. “Well, we best be getting back to Camelot then.” “We don’t want to keep Osric waiting to _experiment_ , do we?” Merlin secured the hare to the back of his horse and they began their journey back to Camelot.

Some time later, as they were riding through the lower town, Osmond looked at Merlin. “Merlin?” He asked, and he sounded perplexed.

“Yes?” Merlin said, curious what Osmond had on his mind.

“Osric was in my dream again last night.”

“He was?” Merlin asked, attempting to keep his voice even.

“Yes. That is the second time. The first time was the day I got better. In my dreams, when I see him, it is like I know him. But I don’t. I have never seen him before he came to Camelot.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Osmond. There are some things we cannot explain, and I guess this is one of those,” was Merlin’s reply. He hoped that one day, when Osmond did find out the truth, he would forgive Merlin for keeping it from him.

“Ye—” Osmond began but cut himself off when he spotted someone running towards them. It was one of the servants, whose name eluded Merlin.

“Merlin, Osric was meeting with the queen when he was taken ill. He is in Gaius’s chambers. Gaius sent me to find you.”

All the blood left Merlin’s face, of that he was sure. “If you’ll escort Prince Osmond to the Queen, I’ll go to Gaius straight away.” Merlin dismounted his horse, removed the dead hare and handed it to the servant. “Please take this to Cenweard. He said he wished to mount Prince Osmond’s first kill.”

Merlin ran into Gaius’s chambers and found Osric lying in Gaius’s bed. The last time Osric had looked this ill, Merlin hadn’t been sure who he was. A month onward, he had heard and seen the proof; he was certain. There could be no doubt and Merlin was not going to lose Arthur a second time. “No.” he whispered, but it was said loud enough for Gaius to hear because he turned around, and his eyes looked defeated. “He can’t die, Gaius. I will not allow him to do so. Not now. Not after everything we’ve been through. He is Arthur, Gaius and I will not lose him again.”

“There is nothing I can do. He is dying and your magic is the only thing that can possibly save him at this point,” Gaius replied.

“How can he be dying if he is Arthur?” Merlin asked.

“These are not questions I have answers to, Merlin. Perhaps we let him be and he will recover on his own, but do you want to take that chance?”

“No.”

“Perhaps there is something in the book of magic I gave you, but, regardless, Merlin, Osric has perhaps one full day at most. He will not last longer.”

Merlin wiped away the tears that had begun to fall and ran to his room, determined to find a cure.

Page after page he turned and found nothing, and with each new disappointment, more tears found their way onto his jacket. As he turned the page, expecting another disappointment, it began to rain and he looked towards the window and the droplets hitting it and running down, leaving streaks in their wake. It hadn’t rained in weeks, which was not at all normal. He knew that if he walked to the window he would see people thanking the fates for the water that would heal their land, quench their thirst and grow their gardens. He grinned. Then he stood, walked to the window and watched the rain as it fell in torrents from the heavens. The balance of life continued and the new season was dawning. Water was at the heart of this change. It always had been and always would be.

Water.

WATER.

**WATER!**

Merlin clapped his hands together and laughed aloud as he turned around in a circle. Water would heal Arthur. Merlin wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did. But the water couldn't be just any water. It had to be the most special water there was.

His first thought was to take Osric to the Cauldron of Arianrhod, where they had taken Gwen, but then he heard a voice in his head whispering …

_Avalon._

He closed his eyes and listened to the rain for several minutes, then he brought his hands to his mouth and dared to hope that this would work. It had to work. He glanced back at the book and sent it to its hiding place and walked out into the workroom. “I know what has to be done, Gaius,” he said, and he cleared his throat. “I must take him to Avalon. The water is the only thing that will cure him.”

“Then I wish you luck,” Gaius said as he walked to Merlin and hugged him, then let him go, reluctantly. “Be careful, Merlin.”

 

 

Half an hour later, Kilgharrah carried Merlin and Osric to Avalon. The dragon said almost nothing as he made his way through the chilled evening air. Normally, Merlin would have taken the silence to mean that Kilgharrah was upset with him, but he knew that in this situation, the dragon was giving him what he needed: time to prepare.

When the dragon landed, Merlin carefully took Osric and laid him on the grass near the water, then walked back to Kilgharrah. “I wouldn’t wish my life on anyone, but I need to tell you that I will make you proud of me, Kilgharrah. It was you who introduced me to my fate seventeen years ago, and I didn’t want to believe what you said, but it didn’t take me long to realise that what you said was the truth. It took me a long while to come to terms with my role in Arthur’s life, but now I can’t imagine a life without him in it. He is not back how I want him to be, but I will bring him back to us someday, and I will see to it that our kind is accepted once again.” With that, he turned and went back to Osric.

“Call me, young warlock, when you and _The Once and Future_ _King_ are ready to return to Camelot.”

Merlin fell to his knees at Osric’s side. The fact that Kilgharrah had spoken those few words finally confirmed the truth, without any doubt. Merlin had seen the crystal and had come to his own conclusion, but with the great dragon's words, it was all the more real and true, and the magnitude of the moment overwhelmed him. “Oh, Arthur.”

He gathered Arthur into his arms, stood and began to walk into the water. He walked until the depth made it almost impossible for him to continue. He lowered Arthur into the water and submerged every inch of him. He wasn’t sure how long he needed to leave Osric submerged, but he waited half a minute, then he slowly lifted him clear. When his face emerged, Merlin very nearly dropped him, because the body he held was Arthur’s. It was the body of the King of Camelot.

Merlin, tears making it all but impossible to see in front of him, returned to the shore and carefully laid Arthur on the ground. He was still asleep, but Merlin knew he was healed. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he did.  “Oh, Arthur,” he said as he stared down into the face of the man he had thought he would never see again. “Please wake up.”

But Arthur continued to sleep. Merlin looked to the sky and noticed it was getting darker. “Please open your eyes, Arthur. Please.” Then Merlin, prostrate with grief and hope, leant over the body of his best friend and cried. “Please come back to me. You have a son, Arthur. Osmond. You would love him so.”

“Merlin? Why are you being such a girl?” said a raspy voice.

Merlin slowly lifted his head, opened his eyes and laughed through his tears. Arthur was awake. Merlin hadn’t dared hope. He had pleaded, but he had not truly thought it possible. He had been told it would be years in the future before Arthur would truly return. “You’re awake! And you are you!” Merlin grinned.

“Erm, yes, I am,” Arthur said. “Where are we?”

“Avalon. Oh, Sire, it’s really you,” Merlin said, the moment quickly overwhelming him again. He began sobbing. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Don’t be such a girl, Merlin. What have I told you about being a girl?”

Merlin cried harder. “Yeah, well, you’ll have to excuse the tears, Sire. You’ve been gone for seven years,” Merlin said, wiping the tears from his face with his shirt-sleeves. “I think I deserve to cry. Even if it is like a girl.” Merlin half-laughed, half-sobbed as he stood and walked in a circle around Arthur. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Arthur was alive!

 

 

 

“Oh, Arthur,” he said before he went back to Arthur and sat beside him. He looked up towards the heavens and thanked the fates for the day. The one thing he had wanted more than any other for the past seven years was at long last here with him. Merlin coughed and cleared his throat as he looked back down at Arthur.

And all the happiness left him.

“No.” He shook his head. “No.”

Merlin’s entire world crashed in on him. The body lying before him was once again that of Osric, and he was sleeping as if he hadn’t seconds earlier been awake and speaking. Merlin began to tremble and he couldn’t stop. He was so very cold.  “No. No. Arthur, come back. Please. Come back to me.” More tears welled in his eyes and he shook the body of the sleeping Arthur. “Don’t leave me!” Merlin began to find it difficult to breathe. He forced himself to calm down, but the tears continued to fall, making it difficult for him to see, and after a few seconds’ fighting the wave of despair, he gave himself over to the kind of grief he hadn’t felt for seven years.

“NOOOOOOOOOO!” he shouted and he squeezed his eyes shut. Lightning, thunder and cold, pelting rain filled the sky and the earth beneath him began to shake.  He opened his eyes and watched as the water began to resemble a beach, waves lapping against the grass. He looked down at Arthur and watched as the rain soaked his hair and clothes. Merlin shook his head. He didn’t want Arthur to get wet. “No, stop. Stop. Arthur’s getting wet. Please stop,” he begged. The body he was looking at was not the one he wanted to see and it was not the one that he knew better than any other beside his own, but it was the body Arthur had taken residence in. Merlin would do anything to protect it.

Abruptly, the rain, thunder and lightning stopped, the earth ceased its tremors and the water was once again calm. Merlin swallowed as he removed his neck kerchief and wiped the water from Arthur’s face.

“Young warlock, it is time to return to Camelot,” said the familiar voice of the dragon from behind him. “You have seen and heard what you needed to see and hear; now you understand what has to be done. I have faith in you, Merlin. We all do.”

“You shouldn’t,” Merlin replied as he shrugged his shoulders and looked over his shoulder at Kilgharrah.

The dragon chuckled, but only briefly. “Merlin, just as you have a proclivity to not do as I say, I choose not to listen to your self-doubt. Regardless of what you think or say, you are destined for great things and you do have the support of all that matter in this fight. That, young warlock, will never change. So cry your tears and mourn the loss of Arthur for a second time, but do not presume to tell me, or anyone else, not to have faith in you.”

Merlin turned his attention back to the sleeping Arthur. “Will I see the Arthur I have known again, or was this a one-time-only occurrence for me to see that he really is Arthur?” After a few seconds’ silence, he wished he hadn’t asked, because for a moment he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. He roughly wiped at his tears and squeezed his eyes shut. Once he had composed himself somewhat, he re-opened them. “Please tell me, Kilgharrah.”

“That, young warlock, is not for me to say, and it is not for you to know. What will be, will be. We are all but a vessel on this earth. We house spirits that have been around long before us and they will be here long after us. What is in a body? A lifetime of others preconceived notions, Merlin. It is the person—the spirit within—that matters,” Kilgharrah said. “What that spirit travels to this world in does not matter. _At all_ ,” he added, putting extra emphasis on the final two words.

Merlin covered his mouth to hide the sobs, but it didn’t help. He understood what the dragon said, but the thought of never again seeing the Arthur he knew was devastating. He leant over, picked up the sleeping Arthur and placed him on Kilgharrah’s back, before climbing on himself and holding Arthur tightly to him. When the dragon took off, Merlin closed his eyes and tried to remember every moment of the brief time Arthur had been with him again. “Will he ever remember who he is, or is that, too, something I shouldn’t ask?”

“That remains to be seen, but to have hope is one of our greatest gifts, young warlock. Neither I, nor anyone else has the right to take away your hope, when we ourselves do not have those answers.”

Merlin leant over and kissed Arthur on the forehead, then rested his head on the chest that was steadily rising and falling.

“It is time you told the queen, Merlin,” Kilgharrah said. “Everything. I think you are aware that she knows about you and what you have done for Camelot. She has kept your secret well; she has protected you. Now you must show her your thanks by protecting her. The time is right to do this, and before you ask, yes, tell her about Osric being Arthur. She has a monumental task before her and she needs to go in understanding what exactly she is fighting for. I have seen her heart, Merlin, and it and she are ready for what you have to tell her. You have performed admirably. Now it is time for Guinevere to decide the future of Camelot. Give her what she needs and she can bring about the world we wish for.”

Merlin nodded, but he had to be sure he was hearing correctly. “So, it’s not up to me? I thought you said it was up to me to see that magic was accepted,” he said as he wiped his tears. He looked up and watched as the dragon took him and Arthur ever closer to Camelot.

“Oh it is, young warlock, but had you listened to what the crystal told you, you would remember that it said the queen was the one who would have to see to it that the people of Camelot accepted magic. You, Merlin, are the one who must make her see how important it is that magic is allowed again. Have no doubt, Merlin, you are the most important factor in all of this. Without you, there would be no hope. You are the light we all will follow into the future.”

“Yeah … er okay,” Merlin said, feeling all the weight of the world settling upon his shoulders once again. If Kilgharrah thought he was helping with the motivational speech of his, Merlin wished to correct him. Instead, he swallowed and took a deep breath. The dragon meant well.

“Much has been asked of you, Merlin, and much will be asked of you in future, but take heart, for the day is coming when you and our kind will live free from fear, because of what we are. One day Arthur will look to you as he once looked to his knights. One day he will acknowledge all you have done for him and one day the two of you will rule over Albion together.”

“One day, but not today,” Merlin said, maudlin and morose, mourning the loss of Arthur for a second time. He looked down at the sleeping figure of Arthur and felt as if his world had completely shattered again.

“No, not today, young warlock. It is not yet Arthur’s time. That little boy you love so much needs to have his time first. In a month, Osmond Pendragon will be introduced to the nobility of Albion. It will be an important time for him. And before you ask, because I know you will, yes, even at the tender age of six. Do not presume that Arthur was not faced with the same. He did as he was meant to, as will his son.”

“Yes, but Arthur was not a child prone to illness,” Merlin said. He knew that he should trust what Kilgharrah said, but he was having a difficult time doing so.

“True, but I think you have seen the future, yes? Osmond will be king of Camelot one day.”

Merlin nodded. He knew it to be the truth, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t worry. “Yeah, okay,” he said, and he swallowed, feeling fear for the little boy who had no idea of the life he was to grow into.

“He will be fine. You have seen to that. You have done an admirable job with Arthur’s son and you will continue to do so. Just because he is about to enter his formal training does not mean your duty to him is over. He has much to learn and I look forward to seeing you teach him. Now let us watch him grow into his destiny. Only then, when the time presents itself, will we watch the father succeed the son.” Kilgharrah sighed. “But do not be hasty in wishing that time to come,” he finished, his voice almost reproachful.

Merlin wanted to ask what those words meant, but as he opened his mouth to ask, he thought better of it. Some things … _many things_ … were better left unknown. “Yeah, okay,” he said, and, perhaps for the first time ever, he was perfectly content to not know what was to come.

“Now let us return to Camelot, young warlock, where you, Osric—and Merlin, his name _is_ Osric and must be until the time is right for him to be otherwise—and Osmond will begin bringing about a future we can be proud of.”

At last Merlin allowed a genuine smile to break through the sullenness. Kilgharrah had known exactly the right thing to say to get him back into the frame of mind he needed to be in. The dragon was right. Whilst there was life in the beautiful little boy that had been his salvation, Merlin’s life was to be dedicated to him, because he was mortal and Merlin was not. Whilst Merlin had eternity to share with Arthur, he had but only a very short time to experience life with Osmond, and he didn’t want to miss a moment.

As a new round of tears began to fall—these a mixture of sadness and joy—Merlin shrugged his shoulders and let out both a sob and a laugh as he willed the tears to subside. But he soon gave up and allowed the tears. He was who he was and Arthur had told him to never change and to “ _always be you_.”

Merlin would always be who he was—nothing could ever change that he cried easily or cared excessively—but he had begun to realise that in other respects he was a different person than he had been that Wednesday morning, when he had sent off the best friend he had or would ever have.  Heartbroken, lost and very much alone seven months after Arthur's death, a little boy called Osmond had shown Merlin that there was such a thing as unconditional love and it had forever altered his views on everything.  He had known about responsibility and the meaning of duty before Osmond, but it had never meant so much as it had when that little boy had opened his mouth and said Merlin's name for the first time.  It had been one of those moments that changed lives. It certainly had done for Merlin and he couldn't wait to see what was next for himself, for Osmond and for Camelot.

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